A Time to be Alive
by Cempasuchil
Summary: "If you point a gun at someone, you'd better make sure you shoot him, and if you shoot him you'd better make sure he's dead, because if he isn't he's gonna get up and try to kill you." Several years after the events in Savannah, Clementine suddenly finds herself on her own and struggles to prove her mettle to the wary strangers that find her. Feat. an older Clem and expanded story.
1. Chapter 1

_"Sometimes I claim to know a guy but I can't tell you what his hands look like." _

**A Time to be Alive**

_Chapter One_

A long time ago, someone told her to trust her gut feelings. Omid had said that. Or maybe it was Chuck. Clementine always remembered the important things, but after a while it got harder to remember whose voice had said them.

"Christa, talk to me." She said to the woman sitting next to her. Christa stared ahead, letting the rain drip over her skin like someone too deep in thought to notice anymore. She was like that most days, since Omid died. She claimed to never blame Clementine, but after the baby ... Each day put a strain on their relationship, and each day she became more reclusive, her thoughts and her words growing more blunt and cold.

Christa sighed, muttering, "This'll never work."

Clementine's stomach flipped for a moment, thinking the time had finally come, until Christa stood and walked to weasel impaled over the fire. "Look at this. It's pathetic... The woods too wet to burn." She flipped the twigs around, exposing damp bark to the glowing embers. "At this rate we'll be eating this for breakfast."

"What else can we do?" Clementine asked, hoping Christa could think of something she hadn't.

"Find something that'll burn, maybe. I dunno. Won't be easy in the dark and in the rain."

Clementine sighed, quietly though. Almost anything could set her off, not that she could really blame her. The last couple of months had been especially hard on them both. It had been ages since they could scavenge enough from the houses and rest stops that they came across, and they yielded next to nothing from the woods, beside some plants and very small game. One of Christa's traps had actually caught a wounded cougar the week before, but Clementine couldn't bring herself to kill it. She half thought Christa would hit her when she found out. She was so _angry, _it was frightening to be on the wrong end of it.

The older woman looked over her shoulder, catching Clementine's eye. "You should be doing this, not me." She stood, spreading her arms out. "Tending a fire, so you can cook and stay warm. It's something you have to be able to do, Clementine. Otherwise..."

"I know, I can do it. I'm sorry..." Clementine said, knowing she couldn't win with her. The rain had followed them for weeks as the months passed and the weather grew colder. They just couldn't make fire happen with soggy wood and torn, outworn clothes, but without any help there was no other option but to make do with what they had. "We need to find a group." She said. "People we can trust. We've been on our own for too long."

"Trust?" Christa scoffed. "You think you can trust anyone out here? Not now. Not anymore."

A gust of wind swept through their campsite, making the fire sputter. Christa shielded it with her hands, mumbling curses. Clementine's clothes were damp from the rain, sucking the warmth from her body as she shuddered violently. "I'm freezing."

"You think this is bad? Wait 'til we get to Wellington. Then talk to me about the cold."

Clem hugged herself tight, remembering their first winter in Georgia, then when they walked along the foothills, and eventually to North Carolina, where they'd holed up in an abandoned bed n' breakfast until bandits drove them out to the woods. Sometimes it seemed like the entire world was out to get them, not just the dead but the remaining living as well.

"If we even make it there," Christa said, echoing her thoughts. "We still have a couple hard months ahead of us." She looked up to the sky, letting the drops of water hit her face impassively. "This rain will turn to sleet. Then ice. Then snow. It won't be easy."

"Do you think it'll be safer there?" Clementine asked.

"Safer than here, because of the cold. Or so they say. We just need to keep moving north."

They sat in silence after that. Christa kept tending to fire, adding stripped pieces of bark and dead grass from her pockets. Clementine thought of their time in the RV, when they camped by the train just after they met Chuck. That quiet old man sure knew a trick or two, lighting a match on the side of his boot and making a tiny origami kite from one of her leaf rubbings. Lee helped her tie it to the RV's antennae, and they watched it fly sporadically in the wind and free guitar notes.

"I miss Lee..." She whispered absently. Christa shared a look of sympathy with her, the cynicism melting from her face. "I know you do ... I..." She swallowed her words, dropping her stick. "I'm going to look for more wood. You just keep the fire lit."

Clementine watched her leave. The fire grew dimmer, to the point where only the glowing undersides hissed when rain droplets hit. She sighed, getting up to her sore feet. She pulled her old backpack out from the hollow log she sat on and unzipped it. Lee's polite smile greeted her serenely from the torn picture placed on top of her things. Her heart sunk a little lower as she pushed it aside, only to find an old crayon drawing of Kenny, Katjaa, and Duck she'd scrawled so many lifetimes ago. At times she wondered if keeping these mementos were simply a masochistic reminder of her defiance, one that she was unable to get rid of, like the scar on her knee when she climbed the tree in her backyard before her dad built the treehouse that eventually saved her life. For a wild moment she thought about burning them in the embers, just to bury them in the past. Then she saw a glint of silver and grabbed the Zippo lighter, the faded butterfly sticker still clinging on one side.

She pulled out a crumpled up receipt from her jeans, lighting it and sticking it under the pyramid of sticks. It blazed a bit, but not enough to keep going for more than a few minutes. She shucked a moldy log next to the fire that they'd kept for when the fire died down late in the night, praying Christa had more luck with finding something better to burn.

A voice she didn't recognize alerted her to stand, whipping her head around for the source. It was far off, but aggressive enough to carry through the trees.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

She crept through the brush, finding three armed men surrounding Christa. "I-I'm by myself!" She heard Christa say. One of the men spat tobacco at her feet. "You're obviously with someone, where's your group?"

"Don't fucking lie to us!"

One of the men held a hunting rifle up to eye level. "Give us the truth and you don't get hurt!"

Clem hid behind a tree, watching them shove Christa between them. "I-I told you I'm by myself!"

"Bullshit! Where's the rest of your group?

"She's lying!"

One of them pulled a gun out and aimed it at her head. "Cut the shit, lady."

Clementine grabbed a rock at her feet and chucked it at the nearest man's head, stunning him when it hit his ear. He yelped in pain as she shouted, "Christa, RUN!"

"Augh - hey!"

She bolted, running past their campsite as she heard them hit Christa and feet crashing through the brush after her. She ducked behind a tree, hoping they'd give up. "Get the fuck over here! NOW!"

She ran as soon as the bandit looked away, dodging toppled trees and rocks a split second before she could trip on them. She was fast, but the woods were blackened by the stormy sky, making every step an obstacle. She tripped, landing on her chin and clacking her teeth together. The guy chasing her grabbed her ankle and dragged her back. She grabbed at the nearest loose rock and slammed it on his knuckles.

"Aw - FUCK!" He yelled, letting her go. She scrambled to her feet and ran, nearly bumping into a walker. She slid sideways and went the other way, over brambles that scratched at her skin. The man came up on the walker, and she snapped a branch off a fallen tree, skirting around them to jab at the person chasing her. "Gah - are you fucking kidding me?!"

She bolted again, running with an eye over her shoulder until the ground changed to soft dirt and she skid to a stop just in time at the edge of the ravine. The river she and Christa had been following thundered below.

Something crashed into her, nearly throwing her off the edge if he hadn't bear-hugged her midsection. She screamed, "Leave me alone!"

"Stop fucking squirmin- AAAUUGH FUCK!" He yelled as she bit into his thumb and dropped her.

She scrambled into a hollowed dead tree. The man grabbed her ankle again, drawing her out and grabbing at her wrists. She kicked and wailed on his limbs, until the walkers closed in on them. She glimpse one next to a boulder on their right and swung her weight in that direction. The walker grabbed at the man as he screamed, tearing at his flesh.

Clememtine backpaddled away from the encroaching dead, tossing a stone at the mass. Her hand sunk in empty air and she crashed backwards into the ravine, tumbling into the freezing water. The air was stolen from her lungs as her body flailed in the currents, until her head popped above the surface with a heaving gasp. She couldn't see where the water was taking her, and she tried to cling against boulders ineffectually until the river spread out. She floated on her back, feeling her head want to sink as she struggled to keep her lungs filled with air so she wouldn't fall beneath the surface. She clutched at sharp grass, anchoring herself on some cattails. She dragged herself ashore, just enough to lay her head on soft leafy mud before blacking out.

* * *

Clementine woke up choking on water. The sky was a bright gray above, and the river calm like it had never been a raging force of nature the night before. The currents had spat her out on a muddy bank, the tide rising enough to splash her face awake.

She groaned weakly, pulling herself up only to double over as her ribs protested fiercely to the movement. Her entire body felt bruised and heavy. She glanced at her surroundings, finding only a small embankment walled off by a steep, rocky ledge. No walkers though, which was a plus. No Christa either.

"Hello?" She tried. Nothing but echo. Super.

She hugged her body close, shivering as she walked up and down the path, finding only a canoe snapped in half and upturned in the water, and a shoddy, half rotted set of stairs that poked out from the ledge at a downward angle. The edge was only a couple feet over her head, possibly climbable. She jumped up, twice, and caught the edges with her fingers, forcing her body up over the edge.

She lay there a moment, breathing hard and lamenting the weariness her body suffered. How long had it been since they'd been attacked? She couldn't spot the precise angle of the sun and had no way of telling the time. Had Christa gotten away? From the sounds of it ... Probably not. Tears welled up in Clementine's eyes. That couldn't be right. They were smart, they survived. She had to keep going.

She got up and went up the stairs, seeing nothing but more woods and a skinny trail snaking through the trees. "Christa, are you there?" Silence, which wasn't exactly a bad thing, considering. She pressed forward, past the cross-shaped stick shoved into the dirt and the sign stuck into the head of a corpse warning her of BLACK BEARS, COYOTES, MOUNTAIN LIONS, POISONOUS SNAKES, and OTHER SPECIES.

She walked for an hour, or several hours, she couldn't tell from under the pines and the general fog her mind drifted in. She hopped clumsily over a fallen tree, feeling the wind pick up and shuddered in her cold, soaked-through clothes. Though the trail was fairly flat with little obstacles, the misty pine trees seemed endless. Anything could rush her and she would have nowhere to go but _out there_, into that infinity of dense nature, until she dropped of sheer exhaustion.

Movement shocked the bushes near her. Alarm clenched her muscles, all of a sudden thinking of lions and tigers and bears. A dirty tail wagged in midair, making her think _coyote_ before she saw a mid-sized yellow dog sniffing at an empty can. It turned to her with a clink of its blue collar, ears perked at her footsteps. She froze, heart beginning to thud. The dog growled, flattening it's ears.

"It's ok, boy," she said, reassuring both the dog and herself. "It's ok."

The dog perked up at her voice and yapped, presumably satisfied that Clementine wasn't a walker. "You gonna be cool?" She crouched and held out her hand. The dog went still, like when they're about to bite or run away. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He sniffed her fingers, bumping his nose in her palm and licking in approval. Clementine grinned, enjoying the small victory by saying a soft "Good boy," and scratched at the matted clump of fur behind the ears, surreptitiously checking his name tag. "Sam. Nice to meet you.""

The dog trotted off, sniffing at this and that, occasionally looking back at her in case she was following. He stilled again, looking at something in the bushes. "Whatcha doing, Sam?"

He suddenly barked and barreled through the foliage. "Sam! Where're you going?" She hesitated on the edge of the trail, then decided _why not?_, as her only other option was to simply keep walking alone. "Wait up!"

They came upon an abandoned campsite, trash littered around the rusted over Volkswagen van and a couple shredded tents just barely hanging on to their poles. Sam happily bounded after a squirrel, jumping over one of the sitting logs until the critter scampered up a tree. There were no visible signs of life. Clementine called out for good measure, but nothing responded.

Suddenly Sam's bark changed, his haunches raised and growling at something behind the tree. "Shhhh, we have to be quiet." Clem hushed, circling the tree with a wide berth. A corpse sat tied up to the trunk, nearly bald and not too recently dead, a folding knife wedged into the bone in its bicep. It didn't move for so long she thought it was actually dead, until popping noises in its neck gave away it's attempt at movement.

"It's ok, Sam. He can't hurt us." She scooted around its reach so she was in front of it. "We're smart and they're not. We're smarter than all of them."

She had to get that knife, but the walker was starting to reach for her now. She picked up a sturdy branch, her muscles still strained from fighting mano-a-mano with the river. She slammed it down on its cranium with all her weight, fracturing the bone. She swung again, this time snapping its neck and caving the skull in. It's searching arm slumped, only a struggled hissing was left. One more time, she grunted as the branch snapped in her hand upon impact, taking a chunk of skull and brain tissue with it.

"See?" She informed Sam between breaths. "We just need to stay out of their reach." She yanked the knife out, wiping the blood off on her jeans. "At least we found something useful."

The rest of the campsite was pretty barren. She rooted through the boxes in the van, finding nothing except a couple snapshots of a cheery couple with their dog and little girl. She glanced over at Sam, who was gnawing at an itch. That explained the walker tied up to the tree, but what happened to the rest of his family? Why didn't they take their dog?

She spotted a frisbee amid some garbage. "Hey Sam!" The dog flinched and looked at her. "Wanna play catch?" She flung the disc, triggering the dog's reaction to run after it like mad. She cheered when he caught it, returning it obediently near her feet.

"Again?" She threw it badly, but he dove for it nonetheless. A small part of her realized this was the first time she ever played fetch with a dog. She had a friend in elementary school, whose name she no longer remembered, that had a humongous Great Dane older than the both of them put together. Her mother hated taking her there, thinking it would bite or simply sit and smother Clementine, though all it ever did was eat and snore.

The third time landed the frisbee in the trash barrel with a clank and a cloud of flies dispersing out of it. Sam circled it twice before sitting down next to it expectantly. Clementine sigh, "I guess it is my fault."

The smell was nearly eye watering. She gingerly picked up the frisbee with two fingers when she noticed a can of baked beans. She tapped the bottom of it with her fingernail. It was solid and unopened. "Oh my god,_ thank you_!" She said, digging it out from the trash. She showed Sam her find, "Look, Sam! A can!"

Sam barked,_ Nice job!_

"I know, right? Let's see what's inside."

She sat on one of the logs by the barbecue, flipping her knife out._ Please don't be bad_... She prayed, then stabbed at the lid and pried it open. "Oh, thank god." She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of regular cold beans. She scooped some out with her hands, convinced it was the most delicious food she'd ever eaten.

Sam whimpered. She looked up at the dog flicking his eyes between her and the can. "How do people ever say no to sad, puppy eyes?" She chuckled, dumping beans out onto her cupped hand. "I bet you're pretty hungry too."

She offered the handful out. Sam lapped them up, cleaning off every single one. She smiled just as he lunged and snapped the can out of her hand. "Hey!" She said, standing up. "Don't eat it all!" The words fell from her mouth as the dog jumped up snarling. She had a slit second to protect her face and felt teeth sink into her forearm.

She fell backwards, screaming as Sam thrashed his head with jaws clamped tight on her arm. She punched at his snout, frantically searching for her knife. The spilled can of beans lay to her right, the jagged edge glinting suggestively. She grabbed it and dragged it across the dogs face. Sam yelped, finally letting go in surprise.

Clementine saw her knife by her feet. She reached for it as Sam bared his teeth and lunged again. She kicked at him with both feet, sending him flying over a log. She snatched her knife, backpedaling away and waited with wild eyes. After a few seconds she realized a something was wrong, he wasn't coming after her anymore. Her stomach churned in dread, hearing to feeble barks turn to whines somewhere just out of sight. She hauled herself to her feet and approached with her knife out, though not expecting him to pop up and bite her throat.

"Oh no," _The tent poles_ ... His dirty paws were kicking helplessly, stunned wide eyes rolling back in their sockets. She quickly looked away, but the image was already burned in her mind. _Why is this happening to me? _The flailing degraded to odd, involuntary twitching, as through he were dreaming about still chasing that squirrel.

"This is so messed up," Clementine whispered, kneeling by his head. She stroked his head as her throat tightened, then bunched the loose fur at the back of his neck in her fist. "Shhhhh, it's ok ... I ... I'm _sorry_, Sam." She slid her knife across his visibly racing pulse, one long, final whine escaping him as his body slowly relaxed. Hot tears blurred her vision and ran down her face as she stared straight ahead._  
_

As soon as she could think clearly enough, Clementine stood up and left without a second look back, only an arm of ripped flesh to remember it by.

She walks for hours, days, or maybe only fifteen minutes. The only indication that time was passing was the fading visibility. The wound on her arm felt like the flesh had been torn off from the muscle, and the air felt colder around it and stung in the breeze. She had to find help, a first aid kit, and if there was a god, some painkillers.

Everything looked different and the same. For all she knew she'd been walking in circles. Her feet ached and stumbled the more and more steps she took. Delirium was dangerously close to taking hold of her mind. She focused on the throbbing in her arm to stay alert.

Eventually she slumped against a rock, biting her tongue to stop from crying out. The trees spun as though they were film stuck on a loop, even as she pressed her temple to the cool moss. Her mouth felt dry and she couldn't stop her eyelids from fluttering. _This is bad..._ She thought. _If I just sit here like this I'm going to die._

She was so tired. Physically and emotionally wrecked, sick of losing people, of wondering if today was the day the walkers or bandits would get her, constantly feeling scared, lonely, weak, hungry, and just so _tired_.

_Well, it's not like anyone makes it out alive._

She chuckled humorlessly. What would Lee think of her, sprawled there on the ground feeling sorry for herself? _I know you can do it, sweet pea..._ He'd say. _You got to move!_

"Just five minutes, Lee." She dozed for a breath or two, then opened her eyes. There, on her 2 o'clock. A blurry walker in the distance. And where there's one, there's always more somewhere out of sight. She blinked slowly, noticing the growls of another walker as it shambled from behind a tree. Shit.

She forced her limbs to move, though it was like wading through from under a swimming pool. She tumbled out of the path of a third walker about to cut her off. Everything was taking on a rosy hue. She groaned, dragging each forced step in front of the other. She could hear the snarls grow louder. She wasn't going to make it.

The corpse of a girl in a pink sweater lunged at Clem, the two collapsing hard to the ground. Rolling over, she narrowly missed the walker's ragged fingers from clawing her face. The smell of rot and filth invaded her senses. Fueled by adrenaline, she kicked at the walker, trying to shove the weight off. She screamed from the effort, trying to avoid the gnashing, broken teeth as she yanked at it's long ropey hair, only for it to rip loose with a clump of scalp.

_Not like this_, she thought frantically. Her injured arm buckled. She shut her eyes tight.

She heard a wet crunch that didn't come from her, and the putrid dead weight slid off. Bewildered, she blinked dizzily around, seeing an orange blur of a man above her wielding a machete.

An arrow shot through the air and lodged itself in an walker's eye. A voice to the right shouted, "I'm out! Grab her and let's go!"

"C'mon kid, we gotta get!" She felt herself being lifted, her face lolling onto her rescuer's chest. She got a glimpse of an older man in a green jacket sparing them a quick glance. "Let's move!"

They ran through the woods, not bothering with any of the walkers they skirted past. Clem clenched her teeth to ignore the pain in her arm, instead trying to focus on something else. She took a deep breath, smelling grass and something else that tugged at an old memory that she couldn't quite visualize.

After a while they stopped to catch their breath. The older man surveyed the trees behind them. "I think ... I think we're safe."

Clem tried to snap back alert with only mild success, feeling rather deranged. "Yeah ... Yeah, we're good." The man holding her said, following the others line of sight. He had a young face, maybe in his early twenties, with light brown hair that could probably use a trim. He looked down at her with concerned interest. "Hey, you all right?"

"I ... I think so," Clem mumbled.

"Yeah, well I used to think I could stick it to major record labels. Doesn't make it true," he quipped. "You look like you're in pretty bad shape."

Clem smiled against his chest. "Well, at least I'm not dead yet. That's a start."

The older man chuckled. "That's the spirit."

They continued walking towards the drifting sun. "So what are you doing out here by yourself?" The man in green continued. "Where are the uh, people you're with?"

Clem hesitated, wondering what may have happened to Christa. How far did the river currents carry her? It struck her then that she would likely never see her again. The last remnant of their original group, gone. The older man added, "I don't want them to think we're doing anything but trying to help you."

"I'm alone." She whispered. "Everyone I know is gone. It's just me now."

The two men shared a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that," Green-jacket man said. "I just lost a sister. We've all lost folk."

A moment of silence passed, everyone presumably thinking of lost loved ones.

"Well, I'm Luke." The man carrying her said, gesturing to the other with his chin. "And this is Pete."

Pete gave her a nod. "Hey there."

A small, sleepy smile snuck up on her. "Hi, I'm Clementine."

"It's nice to meetcha, Clementine." Luke said. "For now we're heading back to our group. We got a doctor with us and you look like you could use some - OH SHIT!" He tossed her out of his arms like she'd burst into flames. She suppressed a yelp and threw him a dirty look.

Pete looked scandalized, turning on Luke. "What the hell, boy? What is it?"

"She ... She's been bit, man. FUCK!" Luke began pacing, running his hands through his hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! What are we going to do here?"

"No, wait!" She exclaimed, catching up with their train of thought. "It was just a dog!"

"I didn't see any dog, Clementine." Pete said, brows furrowing.

"Come on, kid! We just saw you with those lurkers!" Luke said, waving a hand in the direction they'd come from.

"I can't even remember the last time I saw a dog."

"It was! Please, just look at it!"

Luke scoffed. "Yeah, and have you sink your teeth into Petes's neck? No way."

Pete made a face. "_My_ neck? Why am I the one?"

"Cause I don't know a dog bite from a mosquito bite from a lurker bite, man!"

"No! It really was a dog!" Clem pleaded, "Please believe me!"

Luke sighed. "Look, I want to kid ... But I gotta believe my own two eyes first, and I didn't see no dog around."

"No, it was from before!" She said, though even she could hear the defeat in her voice. How much worse could this day get? She met Pete's scrutinizing gaze as he crossed his arms, silently weighing their options. "Hmm ... All right. Let's see it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, watch yourself." Clementine gave Luke an indignant look. "Hey, don't look at me like that! You're the one who's bit here, ok." He folded his arms and looked away.

Pete gently took her arm, peeling the blood soaked sleeve back to reveal the still-oozing bite. Clementine tried to keep from flinching by gritting her teeth. "See?"

Luke peeked over his shoulder. "Is it uh, is it like she says?"

"Hmm ... Well, could be a dog. Hard to say." Pete murmured. Clementine felt like screaming in frustration. Despite understanding their caution, she wished she could catch a break and just _make_ them realize she was being truthful. Just this one time. She bit her tongue.

"So where'd this _dog_ go? The one that did this?"

Sam's frenzied paws and eyes rolling white flashed through her mind.

"Now just ... what does that matter. Pete? Seriously." Luke asked, looking uncomfortable.

"I killed it." Clementine said flatly.

"What?" Luke said incredulously. "Really? A dog shows up and bites you and you just kill it?"

"What would you have done?" Pete shot back.

"I don't know!"

"It attacked me!" Clementine said, irritated at his reaction. "What was I supposed to do, just let it chew off my arm?"

"Still! You don't ..." Luke sighed, running out of steam. "You don't kill dogs."

An awkward silence followed. Pete looked her straight in the eye. "Clementine?"

Clementine gulped. "Yes?

"You telling us the truth?"

Without faltering, she looked right back at him and said, "What do you think?"

"Hmmph." Pete held her gaze for a long, thoughtful moment, then nodded. "All right, Clementine. That's good enough for me."

"_What_? Hey, that's not even an answer."

"She doesn't like being called a liar. I wouldn't like it either." Pete carefully pulled the sleeve back over the bite. "I got a good bullshit detector, Luke. That's why you could never beat me at poker."

"Pssh, you don't always beat me at ..." He trailed off as Pete helped Clem on her feet. "All right, all right, but how can you be sure?"

"Well I'm sure I ain't willing to leave a young woman in the woods to die when we got a doctor with us who can make a call." Pete snapped. "We can have Carlos take a look at it first."

Luke took a hard look at Clementine wobbling on her feet before saying, "Nick ain't gonna like this. Not with what happened with-"

"You don't have to remind me of that, boy." Pete said quietly.

Luke looked away sheepishly. "Right. Sorry, sir."

Pete patted him on the shoulder, then said, " C'mon."

They walked towards the thinning trees until they came up on a ridge overlooking the sunset dipping behind a two story log cabin. A thin stream of smoke trailed from a chimney pipe, and Clem could make out a warm glow through the curtained windows. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen in years. Despite everything that had happened, and had yet to happen, she felt an immense wave of relief sweep through her body. She was far from out of the woods, so to speak, but that warmth in her heart ignited a much needed hope.

The two men stopped at the edge of the slope for her to catch up. Pete called out to her, "Clementine, you all right?"

"Yup, super. Just ... tired."

"Well you better be super," Luke said unnecessarily. "Cause I ain't carrying you anymore with that bite on your arm."

She tried to glare at him, but her face couldn't pull it off. "Don't worry about..." She trailed off, feeling her body go limp. Luke saw her head tip back and said "Ah, shit." before going to pick her up off the ground.

* * *

**Hooray! Chapter one is up and we're finally about to meet the group! This next part is going to be hard, what with getting everyone's personalities cohesive enough to remain distinct like the game. I hope it do it justice! If you like what you're reading, please feel free to scribble a review of what you think. It really helps!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys for the kind words, it's always really exciting knowing your stuff is being read and enjoyed**_._

* * *

_"Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed."_

_Chapter Two_

_She was hungry when the sunlight drifted across her eyes. It slivered through the planks of her treehouse during the late morning. She thought she heard a car crash into the woods behind the house - there were a lot of car crashes lately, among the screaming and sirens. _

_She curled her knees up, hoping to hear the sounds of her mommy and daddy coming to take her away, their calls shouting her name from the driveway. Sometimes she thought she heard them, but after several hours she realized their voices were only in her imagination. After several more hours she thought she could hear Sandra's voice too. Saying she shouldn't open the front door by herself, then to quickly get behind her. Her shrieks rattled in her head, long after she saw the blood spurting from between the mans teeth sunken into her babysitter's neck. Sandra gargled her last words to her, OH GOD! GET OUT CLEM, RUN!_

Clementine felt as though she'd awoken from a series of bad dreams; covered in cold sweat, limbs weak, kind of crabby. Her head throbbed in tune with her arm like the worst wake up call ever. Agitated voices were arguing nearby.

"-Dont tell me that, not after what happened!"

"Would someone mind telling me what the FUCK is going on?"

Clementine experimented with her eyes. Several blurry people were standing around her, talking to who she thought was Pete, one of the men that had dragged her out of death's grip. For some reason they all seemed so upset. "We got this. Don't worry."

"Like hell you do." A woman came into focus, very pregnant and formidable. "Did anyone even think to ask where she came from?"

Clementine wished they'd shut up. The pain in her arm was flooding back in waves. She tried to swallow and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Blinking away the stars in her eyes she found herself looking down the business end of a rifle barrel.

Pete didn't sound defensive, simply like he knew exactly what he was doing."She told us she was out there alone. She got bit by a dog."

"What?" Pregnant-lady put her hands on her hips. "And you just believed her? You should have put her out of her misery right there."

"Well I'm sorry, Rebecca. Next time I'll shoot everyone I bump into _before_ askin' any questions."

"Do _not_ give me that attitude. For all we know she could be working for Carver!" She crossed her arms."Dog bite my ass."

Every instinct in her told her to run, but then what? One of the men who found her, Luke? He'd mentioned having a doctor, that he could help. That was worth it. She cleared her throat. "I need a doc-"

The rifle went off with a patch of dirt exploding beside her, the bright flash and deafening bang leaving her momentarily stunned. She froze, clutching at her ringing ears while her eyes darting from one startled face to another. Pete yanked the gun away from the tall, skinny guy wearing a red ball cap. "Keep your finger off the damn trigger, boy!"

The cabin door flew open, followed by Luke. "Whoa whoa, what the fuck!"

"Nick, you idiot," The pregnant lady scolded. "Every lurker for five miles probably heard that."

The guy whirled on her. "You're the one telling me to fuckin' shoot her!"

"Everyone just calm down a second!" A man in glasses shouted over them, standing behind Rebecca.

Luke rushed down the porch steps. "Clementine, are you ok?" He asked, helping her to her feet. The good cop, bad cop scenario had officially gotten old. She politely withdrew from him, cradling her left arm. "I just need a doctor ... and then ... And then I'll go. I just don't want my arm to get infected."

"None of us want to get infected." The guy called Nick said. "That's the point."

Luke attempted to reassure her. "We got a doctor right here, ok? He'll have a look." He turned to the others indignantly. "Now what the hell is wrong with you people? She's just scared!"

"We're all scared, Luke." Rebecca said. "Don't act like we're the ones being irrational 'cause we don't buy this bullshit story."

"No way she survived out here on her own." Nick added. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"Let me take a look." A tall man (whom she assumed was the doctor, Carlos) approached Clementine. She took a wary step back, uncertain of this giant with the stony face. Her eyes flickered to Luke, who offered a small smile. "It's ok. Go ahead, he's a doctor."

Apprehensively, she rolled up the sleeve over her swollen arm, breathing sharply through her teeth. She could feel the rest of them looming around the doctor to watch. Carlos gently palpitated the area surrounding the bite. "Hmph, whatever it was, it got you good." He murmured.

"This isn't how we do things, man." Nick declared, walking up to Luke. "When you're bit, you get put down. End of story. I'm not going through this again."

"We could take her arm off." Pete suggested. Clementine gasped. Everyone turned to look at him like he'd sprouted a second head, and it had just told them to cut a girl's arm off. He said it so matter-of-factly she wasn't quite sure those were the words he used. "I know that worked for a cousin down in Ainsworth. We could try that."

"It won't do any good. You'll just be making it worse for the girl."Rebecca argued.

"That's crazy! No one's gonna volunteer to do that!" Her husband agreed.

Luke glanced at her with a pained expression. She swallowed hard. "Luke...?"

"Don't look at me like that, I'm on your side, kid."

She ignored the kid comment and scanned the people before her, meeting each of their eyes head on. "I promise you, it was just a dog bite. That's all it was."

Before anyone could respond, the door to the cabin cracked open. A bespectacled girl peeked through the crack. "Who's she?"

Carlos stood up suddenly. "Sarah, what did I say? Stay inside!"

The girl reluctantly closed the door. Carlos returned to examining Clementine's arm. "I don't mean to be any trouble." She said quietly, not looking up when one of the upstairs windows slid open a crack. "I just want to stop the bleeding, and then I'll go. You'll never see me again."

"And where exactly would you go?" Carlos asked, expressionless but her gut told her there was more to that question than it's face-value. "To find my friend Christa-"

"Forget it." Nick interrupted. "You won't get five feet."

Anger flared in Clementine's chest, and before she could stop herself she shot back, "With aim like that, I'd have enough time to find her walking backwards."

"Shut the fuck-"

"Enough!" Rebecca's husband bellowed, startling everyone. More calmly he said, "Now I'm no doctor or nothin', and I'm good with whatever you guys decide. But maybe, just _maybe_, we should be sure before we go off and do something crazy."

Carlos got up and turned back to the group, folding his arms over his chest in contemplation. Luke spoke, "So what do you think?"

"Was it a lurker?"

"A bite like that ... It could be anything." He murmured. "Only one way to find out."

Pete narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"We wait."

_Crap._ She wondered how long she could stave off an infection. Considering her luck so far, the odds looked bleak.

"By tomorrow morning if the fever sets in, we'll know if she's gonna turn. In the meantime, we can lock her in the shed."

_Double crap! _Clementine shifted uneasily, knowing if she made a run for it she'd find a bullet sized hole in her back. "What about my arm? It need to be cleaned, and stitched and _bandaged_!"

"The girl's in bad shape, Carlos." Luke added.

"We have all that stuff inside the cabin. We could probably get by-"

"Alvin, _please_."

The doctor's face didn't even twitch. "I'm not wasting supplies on a lurker bite." He glanced in her general direction. "If it turns out you're telling the truth, I'll clean and stitch it up for you in the morning."

"But -" Clementine started, but he was already walking up the stairs into the cabin.

"I'm sorry," Luke said. "That's the best you're gonna get."

Nick gestured with two fingers for the gun back. Pete gave him a hard look,"Finger off the trigger, son."

He snatched the gun out of his hands. "I ain't your son."

"Hey, don't be like that, man." Luke warned.

"It's all right." Pete said, looking like stern and authoritative parent. "Boy's got his Mom's temper."

Nick made a disgusted face and turned to Clementine, motioning her to walk with the gun. "C'mon."

She bit her quivering lip as she did what she was told. Behind them she heard Rebecca say, "This is just a waste of time, you'll see. And when she turns, I'm not gonna be the one cleanin' up the mess."

Luke walked next to her, looking equal parts concerned and guilty. Clementine quietly asked, "What if you just let me go?"

"I wish I could. I really do, but it's too risky. I'm sorry."

"Risky? Why? You wouldn't ever have to bother with me again."

"I can't ask you to trust me, but we have our reasons for being careful."

Clementine wanted to argue, but there they were, in front of the shed with the gun at her back. The door swung open and revealed a sparse area, just barrel in the corner and a table with a lamp on it pushed against the wall. "Looks cozy." She muttered, walking in a circle to face the two men at the door as they closed the door behind her.

They walked back to the cabin in tense silence. Nick rolled his shoulders, scowling. "Why are we doing this? This is so fucking dumb."

"Because it's safer this way." Luke reasoned, shoving hands into his pockets. "And I'd rather be sure."

"Yeah, but safer for who?"

"Look, I'm not letting you risk killing an innocent person. I know you don't want that hanging over your head for the rest of your life."

"Psssh, I know I don't want to wake up dead."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Nick, are you seriously telling me you're scared of a little girl?"

Nick shot him a glare, jabbing a finger towards the shed. "That ain't no little girl, man. That in there? That, that is a goddamn_ contingency,_ just waiting to bite us in the ass."

"I don't think you're using that word right."

"Shut up."

"Still," Luke shrugged. "She's scared, injured and locked in a shed with nothing but lurkers to keep her company. Just what do you think is gonna happen?"

Fifteen minutes later, she was escaping her prison and infiltrating the cabin.

* * *

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark, though enough moonlight spilled through some cracks around the doors so the shed wasn't pitch black. She bumped into the table and pulled the little chain to switch the lamp on. "I can't believe this..." She hissed to no one.

Nothing in the room looked remotely useful; a bunch of two-by-fours sticking out a barrel, a rake, a tackle box. An anchor hung from the back wall, as well as a life preserver in the corner. Maybe there was a boat to go with them, on a nearby lake. Not that she had any idea how to drive one, but at least it was something to look for if she got out. _When_ she got out. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, saying to the walls, "You're ok, everything's gonna be fine."

A pitter-patter on the roof indicated it had begun to rain. There had to be something useful leftover, an overlooked chainsaw or bolt-cutters (she laughed out loud at the thought.) Digging through the tackle box she found a roll of fishing line. _Well, desperate times and all that_. She placed it on the table when her shirt snagged on a loose nail. Upon closer examination she noticed a board was hastily hammered over a broken panel near the ground. She patted her pockets, her heart doing a somersault in her chest when she closed her fingers on the pocket knife, mentally thanking the preoccupied jerks that didn't search her. Wedging it between the board and the wall, however, she found it wasn't enough to pry it off.

She searched the room for any leftover tools, finding none. She sighed, leaning against the workbench until her eyes rested on a hammer poking out from a tall shelf.

"No way," She reached for the handle, only able to tap it with her fingertips. She pulled down a folding table from the wall and climbed up. It was _just_ out of reach. She leaned over the shelf, reaching for the handle when she heard a snap. The shelf gave way, sending her crashing to the ground and bashing her elbow and knees.

The wind was knocked out of her lungs, stunning her in place. "What the ... _hell?_" She groaned, frustration burning at her face until she saw the hammer an inch from her hand. She closed her fist around the hammer, feeling a faint grin tug the edge of her mouth.

The board came off so easily it was laughable. She gave the hammer a little flip and slipped it through a belt loop. Kicking out the outer plywood, she crawled through the hole she'd made. The rain was coming down harder, distant thunder rumbling. She scanned the trees, finding only a lone walker floating some thirty feet away. She had two options, run away and try to find the alleged boat, or, find a way to fix her arm so she wouldn't die of infection. Without a map she had little chance of simply stumbling onto a lake. Nope, the next item on her priority list had to be sneaking into the house full of armed and suspicious strangers to 'borrow' their stash of supplies.

And that was going to be the easy part.

* * *

**Thanks for reading this far, please let me know what you think. Next up: Clementine goes Sam Fisher on the group.**


	3. Chapter 3

_"Who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?"_

_Chapter Three_

"They have a _doctor_, they gotta have stuff for stitches." Clementine grumbled, skidding on mud. There was something unnerving about walking around at night. The walkers become more active after dark. It was rarely worth the risk, so most of the traveling and scavenging was done during the nine-to-five hours.

Clementine crept up to the window. Rebecca and Alvin appeared to be bickering. Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest and said something like, "I need some air." She left the room, leaving Alvin on the edge of the bed looking at his hands.

On impulse she tapped on the window pane. He raised his head, eyes going wide as he registered her sheepish grin through the glass. He opened the window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I need your help," she said.

"Me? No... I'm sorry, but I can't do nothin'."

She shifted to a crouch, refusing to be shooed away."Please, I need to fix my arm."

"Are you out of your mind? Even if you ain't bitten by some lurker - which you probably are! - you can't be here!" He looked over his shoulder a the door. "Look, you gotta get out of here, you understand? Get back in that shed and Carlos will take care of you in the morning."

"You'd just let me die?" She blurted out. Alvin's eyes grew wide, then frowned. "I wouldn't let you do nothin'. It's not my call. We're a group."

"But you could help. And if you don't, isn't that the same?"

He rubbed the back of his neck."Look, you gotta get before my wife comes back. We got enough problems already. We got a baby on the way and Becca's all emotional...

Clementine's eyes glistened. "Please help. _Please_."

Alvin looked intensely uncomfortable. "Aw, n-no. Don't do that...""

"I'm not crying," Clementine sniffed. "I'm just so tired."

He sighed deeply. "You're ... Not with Carver?"

There was that name again. "Huh? No."

"And you didn't get bit by a dead person?"

"No." Clementine said. "I'll do anything I can to help your situation. Anything."

He raised an eyebrow. "Except leave me alone."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I'm screwed if anyone found out I did this. You understand?"

"Yes." She said with a sigh, heart skipping.

"What do you need?"

"The b- the cut on my arm needs to be cleaned and stitched."

"Stitched? I ain't doing that."

"I'll figure it out on my own." She said absently. That was something she was _really_ not looking forward to.

"All right, look. I don't know what I can find. We're short on bandages, but I might be able to find something clean that would work. Wait here." Alvin shut the window and left through the door. Clementine leaned against the wall and slid down to sit. The walker had wandered off, not that it was likely to get very close. She closed her eyes, thinking what it'd be like to sink into a warm bed like the one on the other side of the window. God, when was the last time she'd even woken up to a ceiling over her head? Must've been just before leaving Georgia, at the bed 'n breakfast on the outskirts of town. Georgia had been so long ago, right after-

"Hey, miss?" Clementine jerked up and scrambled to her feet. Alvin held out a ball of gauze on top of a sealed cotton strip. "I found you a bandage."

She took it gratefully, "And I uh ..." He held out a box of apple juice, making her heart melt. "Thank you, thank you so-"

"Alvin." Carlos's voice interrupted from behind the door. "House meeting in five minutes."

"Oh, okay thanks!" Alvin called back. He turned back to Clementine. "Now you need to go."

She nodded, and let him close the window on her. _One item down_ ... She crept along the deck, trying other windows with no luck. She circled the building twice, hearing voices gather at the back door entrance. She nearly missed the sheet of plywood nailed over a portion of lattice under the house. Pulling the hammer from her belt loop, she made quick work of pulling the nails out. A gurgly moan made her jump. That damn walker drifted through the trees, too close for comfort. She crawled through a small hole near the bottom, dragging the board back into place.

She passed under rows of pipes, hearing water rush through them and footsteps directly above her. She saw a trap door and scurried to it only to find it locked when pushed. The edge of the hammer was too thick to wedge between the boxy lock piece. She listened for any noise from the room above her. Hearing nothing, she slipped her knife in the crack and slowly pried at the edges. Just as the lock was about to give way the blade snapped, popping open the door. _Damn_... But now she had access to the house, at least.

She peeked inside, finding herself in some sort of broom closet. She opened the door a crack, hearing muted voices in an adjacent room.

"I've already made my decision."

"Well, Luke has more to say on that. Where's Sarah?"

"She's got her book. She doesn't need to be a part of this."

The conversation traveled elsewhere in the house. She cracked open the door and peeked out. It opened out to a cozy living room bathed in warm firelight. Two green plaid couches bordered a small coffee table covered in the remnants of an abandoned poker game. A staircase to her left would take her to other bedrooms, she assumed. To her right was a hall ending in the front door, and another door labeled with the word _Kitchen. _Unable to resist, she pressed her ear to it, catching pieces of conversation.

"She's connected to somebody. There ain't no way she's out here on her own." Nick was saying.

"She said she was alone." Pete replied.

"Yeah right."

"Who ever she's with, they'll probably come looking for her." Carlos pointed out.

"If they show up, and we got her locked up in the shed..." Pete let the implication hang.

"You think we should let her in _here_?" Rebecca's voice was clearest, probably closest to the door.

"No, I'm just sayin, it wouldn't look too good."

"It's just a precautionary measure. Anyone else would do the same."

She gently pressed on the door, allowing her to get a brief glimpse of the kitchen. She counted all six people who'd been outside, plus the girl Sarah holed up in a part of the house, ruling out any wild cards remaining inside the house whom she hadn't had the pleasure of being introduced to. Luke sighed. "You really think Carver would come after us?"

"You think he wouldn't?" Nick responded, chewing on his thumbnail.

"He's not exactly the type to let things slide." Pete agreed.

"What happened happened. There's nothing we can do about it now." Carlos reasoned.

"Let 'im come. I really don't give a damn."

"_Alvin_."

"What? I don't."

Nick turned to pick something off the table when his eyes landed directly at her. She jerked back, silently praying she hadn't been noticed. In what was probably her least graceful getaway, she waddled on the balls of her feet to the nearest door and slipped inside. The lights were dimmed, though it appeared to be Alvin's bedroom. She listened at the door for sounds indicating she'd been busted, but heard nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to give the room a quick sweep.

A picture of a duck hung on the wall made her heart clench. She looked away bitterly. Other than some note paper with lists of baby names on the desk, nothing else piqued her interest. She carefully tiptoed across the living room to the stairs, the candles flickering as she passed them. She cringed as each step creaked like an old man in bad weather until several closed doors greeted her at the top. She picked the door to her immediate right, quietly turning the handle.

The girl with the red glasses raised her nose from her book and gasped. Clementine gasped back, wanting to bolt back outside but her feet were rooted in place. Neither of them moved or said a word for a few seconds. Clementine pressed her finger to her lips. The girl set her book aside and whispered, "You're not supposed to be in here."

She was pretty young, probably not much younger than Clementine. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. "Hi. Can you please help me?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to you." She said uneasily. "My dad can't know."

"Why? What will he do?"

"Get mad at me." The girl said.

Clementine's stomach twisted. She'd hate for this girl to be punished on her behalf. "What does he do when he gets mad?"

"He gets angry, and he says he's disappointed in me, and that he loves me and just wants me to be safe."

Clementine blinked slowly, deciding she was probably younger than she looked. "Is that it? Nothing else?"

"Yeah. It's the worst." Her eyes settled on Clementine's red-soaked sleeve. "What happened to you?"

"A dog bit me."

Her eyes grew wide. "Sounds scary, I bet it hurts."

"I could _die_ if I don't take care of it." Clementine said dramatically. "Do you understand? I need something to clean it with. And a needle and thread to sew it up. Do you know where those things are?"

She shrugged. "My dad has some stuff for cleaning with his supplies upstairs. It kinda burns. I don't know if he has stuff for sewing though."

"Upstairs?" Clementine frowned.

Sarah pointed to the ceiling. "In the attic. We don't have much. He's still trying to restock since we moved." She paused. "I'll help you."

Relief flooded through her. "Good. Thanks."

"I'm Sarah."

Pause. "I'm Clementine."

"We're friends." Clementine did a double take, suddenly growing alarmed by Sarah's excited smile. "Right? We can be best friends! I haven't met another girl my age since, like, way before."

Stunned, Clementine stammered, "I-I'm 18, though."

That made her stop for a moment."Really? You don't look like it. I turned 15 in August, so it not _that_ bad."

That blew Clementine's mind. "No way."

Sarah nodded. "It's hard to be the only girl. Rebecca's ok, but she's old. And that's it. And if her baby's a girl it'll be _forever_ until she's old enough to be my friend. And then I'll be super old -"

"Ok, ok, um," She cut her off awkwardly, trying to look normal. "We are friends."

"Promise?" Clementine's smile shrank. "It's important. Friends have to trust each other, no matter what. Do you promise or not?"

"I promise." She said woodenly.

Sarah smiled enthusiastically. "Me too. Friends." She held out her pinky. _Wow_, Clementine thought. _This girl ought to be a lawyer or something_. She hooked her pinky in the universal symbol for death before dishonor. "A pinky swear is forever."

"Super." Clementine lamented.

"I'll see if I can find what my dad uses when I get a cut. Let me look around," She circled her bed, picking though drawers and a woven chest. She squinted at a brown bottle in her hand. "I think this is it.

"That'll work." She said, accepting it gratefully. This was much better than she had expected; she'd thought she'd have to look for packaged sanitizer wipes.

Sarah waved her hands from side to side. "You can't do it here though! Someone will find you!"

"Don't worry, I won't." Clementine pushed the door open a sliver before going through. "Thanks Sarah." She said, hoping to never see her again.

"Shhh!"

She tiptoed into the room directly across the hall, finding herself in a bathroom. There was probably a stash of toiletries somewhere, a small sewing kit maybe, something she could use. Her hopes were dashed after going through the linen closet, then the cabinet and drawers under the sink. Some bobby pins, a tube of lip balm, mini shampoo bottles. She caught her reflection in the mirror and stopped. There was dried blood sprayed across her face, streaked with dirt as though it had dripped in the rain. She looked pale and sickly, her features slightly gray and wild. No wonder they suspected she was infected.

She pulled at the edge of the mirror, and there it was. One mid-sized sewing needle plunged into a tomato pin cushion. She plucked it out just as she heard the floorboards creak up the stairs. Someone was coming. Clementine panicked, shutting the mirror and backed into the shower, drawing the curtains around her.

The door creaked open, hearing Rebecca's voice say "Dammit." as it shut behind her. "I just need to have this baby and ... Oh god." She heard the faucet gush water, lightning flashing the room and illuminating the woman's outline through the shower curtain. "Let it be ok and let it be _his_." She adjusted her shirt over her stomach, attempting to flash a smile into the mirror until she left.

Clementine waited a few breaths before daring to leave the safety of the tub. Now that she had her supplies, it was time for her to skedaddle.

By the time she got back inside the shed she could barely stand upright. She arranged the items around on the table; Peroxide, bandages, fishing line, needle, apple juice. She rolled up her sleeve, which had started to dry onto the sides of her arm. The wound looked bruised and angry, trickling fresh bright blood.

"This is gonna suck." She sipped at the juice, mentally preparing herself. She uncapped the peroxide, sucking in a big breath, and poured it over the ripped skin. Fire bloomed up her arm. She screamed, squeezing her wrist as the gash fizzled. After a while the burning finally receded enough to flex her arm muscles to relax.

"Ok ... Ok ... I'm good, I'm fine." She sucked at the juice box, the sweetness soothing her throat and mind a little. "Now for the fun part." She threaded the fishing line through the eye of the needle, then pressed her thumb on the center to create a bend in it. "Now ... Just like last time," She muttered, reaching for the pencil. "Just how Christa showed me." She bit into the pencil, then pierced the needle through the skin.

She screamed at the pain shooting up her arm, pulling the wider eye of the needle through to the other end. She dropped it and slammed her fist on the table, starting to feel dazed. The sky thundered ominously.

The next stitch was quicker, stabbing through before she could protest. She felt tears flow freely down her face and tried to slow down her breathing. She placed the needle to her skin again, taking her a couple tries to get her hand to stop wavering. She pushed it through, snapping the pencil in her mouth. She spat it out, pressing her forehead to the table. _Just one more, and you can be done..._

She fought to keep her hand steady, nausea rolling through her. "Just one more..." Her hand, slick with blood, slipped and pierced too deep. Thunder drowned out her cry of agony. She adjusted the needle, yanking the final stitch through. There. It was done.

She tied it off and bit off the string. She felt lightheaded, laying her upper body over the table to rest as she slurped the rest of the juice. When she could breathe normally again she reached for the bandages. They were awfully cute to staunch all that blood. She fumbled with it, dropping it through clumsy fingers. She groaned, bending to pick the ball of gauze up.

A pair of white decaying eyes met hers before she realized what was happening. The walker latched on to her wrist, lifting itself and clacking its yellowed teeth. Clementine shrieked, kicking at it's head and pulling back her arm. She reached for the hammer on the table when the hole it was crawling through broke open wider. They crashed to ground, her cheekbone hitting the table on the way down. The walker dragged itself on top of her, spewing toxic breath and dirt from it's beard. She flailed in terror, screaming and pushing with her legs on it's chest. It toppled off, allowing her to grab at the first thing she saw: a metal rake. She used it to pull herself up just as the walker shambled at her with outstretched fingers. She jabbed the curved tines at its neck, staving off it's forward momentum. With a determined cry she ran it backwards into the wall. It tripped over it's own feet and hit the sharp anchor, splitting through it's sternum.

Clementine hastily scooped up the hammer, nearly falling on her face. Taking practiced aim, she hurled it down on its skull. The bone cracked, exposing the infected grey matter. She swung it down again, and again, until it got lodged in the bone and the walker's jaw hung slack. She panted as her vision spun, yanking at the handle feebly, not caring that the shed door was being jangled unlocked and flung open. "Holy shit..."

She wiggled the hammer free with an exhausted grunt as more people ran up. "What the-"

She wiped her face on her shoulder, feeling the start of a bruise swell on her cheekbone. She turned to face the music, dropping the hammer at her feet. Luke had his hands in his hair, sharing everyone's shocked expression. "How the hell did it get in here?"

"Girl's tough as nails." Pete mused.

"I am still. Not. Bitten." She met their wide eyes with exhausted fury. "I never was! And you left me in here to die."

Some of them exchanged guilty looks. Luke noticed her rolled up sleeve. "You patched yourself up?"

"Where'd you get that stuff?" Nick demanded.

"Did she _steal_ from us?" Rebecca asked incredously.

"This doesn't change a thing. She hasn't done anything to us." Pete announced, hands out in a peaceful gesture.

"No, I did." Clementine admitted. "I took stuff. And I'm sorry, I really am. But you left me no other choice. It was that, or die."

"And you think you can trust her?" Rebecca shot back, glaring at Pete.

"God DAMMIT, don't even start." Pete shouted. "Any of you would have done the same if you were half as tough as this young lady, so just save it."

They were quiet, shamefully averting their eyes. Carlos shook his head. "Bring her inside, I'll check on her arm."

"Damn lurkers sneakin' around out here." Alvin added, rubbing Rebecca's shoulder. "We better get inside."

They left Luke and Clementine at the entrance of the shed. Luke was biting his lip and looked like there was something he wanted to say. Clementine went to follow the rest into the house.

"You hungry?" Clementine paused, trying to come up with a polite way to say _fuck no_, until she gave up and left him with his stupid question.

* * *

**Next chapter will start to deviate from the game a bit more. Remember, when you leave a review, an angel gets it's wings.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope everyone had a fun summer solstice! Just to clear a couple things up: T****his story takes place about 4 years after the outbreak, with the events in season 1 taking twice as long (approx. 6 months). Also, **I started out without a clear pairing in mind, but as the story progresses I keep leaning towards the cute guy with the machete. Expect more of that coming up.

* * *

_"There was a lot they didn't tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart."_

_Chapter 4_

The kitchen was lit by candles dripping onto saucers scattered along the counters and dining table. Nick stood against the wall, chewing his finger while Carlos delicately dabbed ointment on Clementine's arm. Luke paced next to them, glancing over every few seconds. The rifle on the table gave her an uneasy feeling, but she said nothing as she took a penicillin tablet and chugged down her second glass of (_clean!)_ water.

"This might hurt a little." Clementine winced as a fresh bandage was secured with gauze wrapped around her forearm from the elbow down.

"How's she look?" Luke asked.

Carlos bobbed his head in a _so-so_ gesture. "Her suturing skills could use some work. But otherwise I'd say she should be fine."

"So it definitely wasn't a lurker bite."

He shook his head. "If it was, the fever would have already set in and her temperature would be through the roof."

Nick suddenly pushed off the wall and exited through the swinging door. Luke glared and followed after him, leaving Clementine alone with the taciturn doctor. He hunched over the sink to wash his hands, striking her as someone used to most things around him being too small. She jumped when he spoke, realizing she'd been staring. "I wish you hadn't done what you did."

"Huh? Oh," She sat up straighter in her seat. "I wish I had another option. But I was hurt, and you weren't helping."

"Because we considered you a threat. Which you were." He said as he dried his hands. "Maybe you still are."

"No, I'm not. I don't know how many more time I have to say that." She said, resenting the implication.

"We put you in that shed out of concern for the safety of our loved ones," He said in a slow, clear voice. "And then you escaped and persuaded my daughter to steal from us. So far, you've done a good job of making me think otherwise."

So, he'd found out about that little detail. Clementine occupied her attention with a stray toothpick, wishing she could sink through the floorboards, anything to get out of this conversation. "Yeah, but ... sometimes you have go with what your gut tells you. You don't seem like bad people, but you were wrong about my arm and I had to do something about it. Out of concern for my own safety, seeing how I don't have the luxury of others looking out for me."

Carlos mulled over what she said, putting away the first aid supplies into the box with long, measured movements. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but there are a few things you need to know about my daughter."

"Okay..."

"She isn't like you. You may not get that initially, but once you're around her for a while you'll understand." He crossed his arms, turning sideways to stare out the window at something she couldn't see. "If she knew how bad the world is ... What it's really like out there ... She would cease to function." He closed his eyes briefly. "She's my little girl. She's all I have left and I would ask that you stay away from her."

Clementine's mouth hung open, not sure whether she should be thankful for the excuse to keep Sarah at a shouting distance, or irritated that he'd kept the girl so sheltered for so long. She chose her words carefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't know ... you don't really meet people like that anymore."

Carlos nodded. "Precisely."

"I bet my mom and dad would've wanted to protect me as much as they could, too." She licked her lips, gathering her courage for the next part. "But during times like these you don't get to be a little girl and expect to survive. She needs to grow up sometime."

Carlos whipped around, his normally even features dark with anger. "_You_ do not know what she needs!" Clementine shrank in her chair with wide eyes. "Rebecca was worried you might be working with someone else. That your being here was no accident. I guess we will find out." He picked up the first aid kit, inflicting a cold look on her. "But one thing I know for certain. You are _not_ to be trusted."

He stormed out the kitchen, letting the door swing wide before it was caught open. Luke poked his head in. "Hey, uh, everything all right in here?"

Clementine nodded, staring at her hands twiddling the toothpick. "I guess first impressions are just not my thing." Who was she to tell anyone how to raise their kids? It was no business of hers, she didn't even like the girl.

"I brought you some food if you're hungry." He raised a bowl steaming with what smelled like cinnamon oatmeal. She raised her eyebrows as he set it in front of her and brought over a candle to the table, sitting down across from her as she dug in. "Mmmph!" She hummed, savoring the taste of Saturday mornings in front of the TV.

"That's gonna leave one helluva scar." She swallowed her mouthful, eyeing the clean white bandages. Shrugging, she said, "I don't mind, it's better than losing it."

He chuckled. "Yeah, scars are way cooler than stumps. See this?" He held his palm up, showing her a long smooth scar starting at the crook of his thumb extending to the opposite corner of his wrist. "I got it trying to catch a knife coming at me. Would have taken my eye out."

Clementine blinked in astonishment. "You'd have looked like a Bond villain."

"I know!" He exclaimed. "But I guess I'm the kind of weirdo who'd rather keep his depth perception than look like a badass, y'know?"

The door swung open again. She felt the smile wilt on her face as Nick tentatively approached. She ignored him, spooning hot oats into her mouth while he stood there trying to look casual. "Hey look, um ... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for ... well ... for being a dick. I got kind of aggro out there, aaaand that was definitely not cool."

"Nick's been known to go off every once in a while," Luke explained. "Don't hold it against him."

"Yeah I guess we all have our moments."

Luke squinted at his friend. "You ... definitely had one out there."

"You were just protecting your friends." Clementine found herself saying. "I get it."

"I didn't mean to be so harsh," Nick rubbed the back of his head. "It's just ... We had a bad experience before."

"We've all had bad experiences." She told him.

Nick pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, both men taking on a distant look. "Can I ask what happened?" She asked, setting her spoon down.

Nick opened his mouth, but the words didn't come out. Luke said, "Nick lost his mom. We were taking care of somebody who got bit."

"It was my fault," Nick said thickly. "I was -"

"It was _no one's_ fault. We thought we could control it, but we couldn't ... and then she turned and his mom was standing right there and she got attacked." Luke remained still, fingers clasped together. "There was nothing we could do about it."

Clementine thought back when Ben's teacher had turned in the flatbed of a pickup truck at the Motor Inn. Katjaa was grabbed, right there in front of Lee. She hadn't been hurt, but it had been so close.

"Anyway, hopefully you understand." Nick said, rising to his feet. Clem nodded and smiled reassuringly. "I do, it'd be hard not to see some parallels. I'm sorry about your mom."

He gave her a charming little smile with just a hint of tooth, nodding before he left. She scraped the sides of the bowl with her spoon, feeling Luke's eyes on her. "So ... since you're pretty much on your own, what's your plan?"

_Good question. _"I don't really know. My friend is ... oh, wow."

"What is it?"

"Christa. The friend I was with ... she's really gone." She gazed out the window, streaked diagonally from the wind and rain. "It's weird. Things between us weren't going very well for a while now, but after knowing her for so long ... its just hard to let all that go."

"Well, you're welcome to stay here if you want. You can let yourself heal up, and take some time to sort things out."

"Do you think everyone else will be ok with it?"

He leaned in over the table and gave her a disarming smile. "They'll just have to deal with it." She had to look away, hoping the bill of her hat would hide her blush. She continued to eat, hoping she wouldn't be such a dork for the rest of the evening.

"So ..." Luke said, examining the swirls on the wood table. "What happened to your parents?"

She would never finish eating at this rate. He shifted in his seat, picking up on her subtle expression. "If you don't mind me asking. I mean, I assume what happened to them is what happened to just about everybody's parents. You're ... just so young, I didn't think you could have made it on your own for so long ... or maybe you did, I don't know."

"Just how young do you think I am?" She asked coyly.

He shrugged. "Sixteen? Ish. Around Sarah's age, I figure. I'm awful at guessing."

"I'm 18, actually." She said, feigning offense. Luke frowned. "Huh. You don't look like it."

"I get that a lot." Clementine said. "It's all right though. Usually, I can get away with being unnoticed easier than others because of it."

"Hmm." Luke scratched at the stubble on his jaw. "But still, you must've been pretty young when all this started. How did you get by?"

Clementine recalled those first few frantic months in the beginning, when the shock was still fresh and there was still an unspoken expectation of a rescue. "My parents died ... other people took care of me."

Luke looked saddened. "Thats tough. I lost my folks, too." He moved as though he were about to reach for her hand, then thought better of it. "Hey. Look, I'm sorry. I ... I shouldn't of asked."

She shook her head in dismissal. "It's all right. My parents went on vacation and left me with a babysitter when it happened, and they never came back. We went to Savannah to go find them, but they were already dead. This man," Clementine smiled softly. "Found me a few days in and took care of me. We met up with other survivors, and we all tried to make it. But ... it didn't work.

"His name was Lee. He taught me how to survive, and how to shoot a gun," She remembered her friend beaming down at her when she shot all the bottle targets in the boxcar, clapping her hand in a high-five. It was one of those funny instances that the brain stores away in perfect clarity, not necessarily for its personal significance, but for some other mysterious reason. "He never asked for anything in return, he never lied ... and he always believed in me. I'd be dead right now if he hadn't come along."

"What happened to him?"

"I killed him." She didn't bother looking up to see his startled face. "He got bitten ... protecting me, and I had to kill him before he turned."

Luke was at a loss for words. "Wow."

"I had to." She said quietly.

They both jumped when the door creaked open again, this time by Pete. "I hate to interrupt, but I'm out there standin' watch and I can't help but notice this place is lit up like a goddamn beacon in the middle of the woods."

"Yeah, it's time to turn in anyways." Luke said as he got up. "Goodnight, Clementine."

She perked up before he could get through the door. "It's Clem."

It was totally worth seeing that smile again. "'Night, Clem."

Pete took her empty glass and refilled it in the sink. "Hey, Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't thank you for sticking up for me earlier."

"Don't sweat it. Just get some rest in for me, all right? There's a blanket on the couch for you. G'night." He gave her a parting smile and stepped outside. Not that she didn't mind the friendly company for a change, but now she could finally scarf down her food like a maniac without anyone watching.

"Oh. You're still here." Clementine gave the pregnant woman a blank look that was returned with cool disapproval. She went to the sink with an empty glass and proceeded to fill it. "I wouldn't get comfortable if I were you."

Clem gulped down her last bite. "What?"

Rebecca clinked some dishes around the basin distractedly. "Maybe you've fooled everyone else. But not me."

Bewildered, she shook her head. "I don't understand, what are you talking about?"

"Don't pull that shit on me. I'm not my husband." She turned to face the confused girl directly, secure on her deceptively calm cloud.

Clementine put on her most serious-business face. "I seriously have no clue what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do."

Exasperated, she threw her hands up. "I _just_ needed some help!"

Rebecca leaned her hands against the table, all but sneering into her face. "Well you got it. Now go."

"Whose baby is it?"

Rebecca jerked back. "Excuse me...?"

For a second, Clementine didn't realize she'd said that out loud. "If it's not Alvin's, whose is it?"

"_You shut your fucking mouth!_"

They glared at each other, nothing but the rain and low rumbling of thunder to fill the silence. "I won't tell." Clementine finally said. "I'm not interested in whatever trouble you got yourself in, just don't take it out on me."

Rebecca gaped at her. "I knew you were going to be a fucking problem." She left the kitchen in a disgusted huff.

Oh yeah. She was bombing these first impressions spectacularly.

* * *

Clementine woke up in that space of time between night and daybreak, when the sky was a shy dawning blue and the entire planet held it's breath in perfect stillness. Even as haggard as her body had felt, she had evolved a natural alarm clock that sensed when it was time to get up and going. Her eyes quickly focused on the strange walls and she jolted up on the squeaky couch before the blurry dream corpses faded from her mind's eyes. Right, she wasn't out in the open wilderness anymore. A small part of her still wanted to look around the room for Christa, out of habit ... _Oh, Christa_.

Clementine rallied a cleansing breath, listening to the birds begin to chirp, the scent of petrichor emanating through windows so old the glass dripped in their panes. She watched the sun begin to rise over the jagged tree tops and streak the air with gold columns pouring in between the cracks.

No one else seemed to be awake for a long time until she heard footsteps pace along the porch. She saw Pete pacing through the windows, facing the woods they'd rescued her from.

A door upstairs creaked opened and bounced off the wall. She looked up to see a shirtless Nick stomping blearily down the hall to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes under his slightly askew hat. Unless the guy had a severe masochistic streak, that probably meant it must be getting time to change watch shifts. Clementine stretched out her arms until she fell back flat against the seat cushion. She had the feeling today would be a long day, and despite Luke's reassurances, she might be 'encouraged' to leave. She would have to steel herself for that possibility.

She'd folded up her blanket neatly and rolled up her crusty browned sleeve to examine the bandages. Only a couple spots had bled through and the skin underneath felt taut but not swollen. That was probably a good thing for now. She pulled it back down as Nick exited the bathroom fully clothed and trudged down the stairs, growling something that sounded like, "Guhmornin'."

"Good morning, Nick."

He swung the front door open, sharing some amicable interchanges with Pete, to Clementine's surprise. As long as the two were exhausted and barely functional, Nick and his uncle Pete seemed to get along just fine.

Pete stepped inside in mid-yawn and noticed her sitting alert on the couch. "Good god, Clem. You always such a morning person?"

Clementine shrugged. "Sorta."

"Hmn, well thank god for some miracles." He went to a small basket next to the coffee table and handed her a bundle of clothes on top of a towel. "Here you go. I gathered up some things you might want. Why don't you go upstairs and get washed up?"

Clementine opened her mouth, but had no idea what to say that wouldn't sound stupid. Did he mean a _shower_? Like, with actual _soap_?

Pete cleared his throat awkwardly. "The shirt'll be pretty big on you, but we don't got a whole lot of spare clothes lying around, so it ought to suffice until we get yours cleaned"

Clementine took the clothes with wide eyes. "Uh, thank you. Really! I ... I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

Pete shrugged. "You're very welcome. We all take care of each other here, and sometimes you gotta carry your friends along before they can carry you." He stifled a yawn into his fist before turning to leave and said, "Good morning, Clementine."

"Sleep tight," Clem said cheerfully, then scurried upstairs and locked the bathroom door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her chin left and right to examine the fine layer of grime caked on her face and neck, which made her appear gaunt in the morning light and darkened the circles under her eyes. Her hair was flattened under her cap, though thankfully it was too short to get really tangled. She grimaced as she pulled her shirt over her head, pulling slightly at her stitches. Several blue and yellowed bruises dotted her arms and torso. Nothing she could do about those.

Spinning around, she tried the bathtub faucet. After a few moments she had hot, glorious water to wash with. She stripped down all the way and settled into the bath water with a happy moan. The water seemed to massage the aches and tension she didn't even know she had in her muscles, and the bubbles shooting out from the shampoo bottle when she squeezed it filled her with absurd delight. Nothing like the collapse of civilization to make one really appreciate the finer things in life.

She did her best to conserve water, however, as no doubt the many other residents had to share the same supply. She dried off quickly, excited to try on her borrowed clothes. The men's T-shirt fit much too large and nearly slouched off a shoulder, though that suited her fine and tied a knot at the small of her back to keep it from flapping around. The pants were long-legged and an odd maroon color, but otherwise fit fine. _Beggars can't be choosers, _she thought_._

She stepped out of the bathroom with her bundle of laundry and nearly ran into Luke. "Oh, mornin' Clem." He said, giving her a wan, sleepy smile. "You're looking a lot better since last night."

Clementine hugged her bundle close, saying, "I feel a lot better, too."

Luke nodded. "That's good." His hair was sticking up at odd ends and he still had the squinty eyed expression of someone who really did not want to leave his bed. He kept looking thoughtfully at her though, as if seeing her for the first time. Clementine tried not to squirm under his gaze. "What is it?"

"Well, I'm just, uh..." He pointed to the bathroom door she was standing in front of.

"Oh! Sorry!" She jumped out of the way and stumbled her way down the stairs, trying to hide her rosy cheeks.

The kitchen door was propped open, bright sunshine flooding the otherwise darkened sitting area. The crackle and smell of frying sausages filled the room, making her stomach growl.

Carlos was in the kitchen, hovering over some boxes on the counter. He turned at the sound of her approaching, throwing her a nod over his shoulder. "Good morning," he said, spotting the clothes in her arms. "Go ahead and toss that in the hamper by the door, we'll get to it later today." There was a tall basket full of what she presumed was their collective laundry sitting in a steel bucket with a box of borax powder. The doctor handed her a mug of dark tea. "Can you take this to Nick? He's only marginally better than those lurkers at this hour."

Clementine nodded, taking the hot mug carefully. Nick was leaning on the pile of firewood, already starting to nod off. She checked whether his finger was anywhere near the rifle's trigger before approaching. "Hey,"

Nick jerked his head up, immediately yawning so wide she could see his teeth fillings. She offered the mug out. "Careful, it's hot."

He gripped it by the handle, jiggling the tea bag up and down. "Thanks. It'll never beat coffee, but caffeine is caffeine." He sipped at the tea, wincing and setting it on the porch rail. He sighed, "Man, I'd do anything for some instant."

An idea began to form. She asked innocently, "When's the last time you went on a supply run?"

He shrugged. "A few weeks ago. We're doing all right as far as food goes for now. Carlos is usually in charge of the rationing."

"Maybe I can help the next time you guys go out."

Nick scoffed, grinning skeptically. "Yeah, well no offense, but we can't afford to babysit you and fight them lurkers at the same time."

Clementine pouted. "I can probably shoot better than you."

"Not with your arm chewed up like that."

"Maybe," She mended, deciding against pushing his buttons. She would have to figure out some other way to show them she could pull her own weight.

Luke came out with two plates of honest-to-god pancakes and sausages. "You better get some food while it lasts, Clem." He said, handing Nick a plate and leaning against the stack of split wood, cutting at his pancakes. Just as she was about to leave he said, "Oh hey!"

She looked back at him. "Hmn?"

He pointed at her with his fork. "I was looking for that shirt."

She looked down dumbly at it, then back up. "Sorry! Uh - Pete gave it to me when - I mean, borrow, he let me borrow it. I didn't know-"

Luke chuckled. "It's all right, you can wear it. Not like you got anything else."

"Well, thanks," She said uncertainly._ What the hell is wrong with me? _She wondered if she was exhibiting signs of a latent mental illness when she noticed Sarah climbing down the stairs in blue unicorn patterned pajamas. Clementine froze, remembering Carlos's warning about staying away from her. She thought about dashing back outside, when Sarah squealed. "Clementine!"

She groaned internally as the girl ran up to her. "You're alive! How's your arm? Does it still hurt?"

"Uh, yeah, but your dad patched it up last night."

"Oh, good," She said, relief almost comically visible. "I was worried you'd have to stitch it up by yourself."

"Ha, yeah ..." Clementine trailed off.

"Hey, you know what this is like? It's like that one movie when-" Sarah started to babble. That was when Clementine decided to nod and make a beeline towards the kitchen, with Sarah trailing behind. Rebecca was already sitting at the table, with Alvin serving her up breakfast. She refused to even look at her, though Alvin gave her a nod before sitting down.

Clementine took a seat at the end of the table. "Morning Dad!" Sarah said cheerily, taking a seat next to her new best friend. Carlos set plates in front of them both, kissing Sarah on top of her head. Clementine hummed her approval around a mouthful of pancake and strawberry jam. "Ugh, I can't even remember the last time I had something this good."

The corner of Carlos's mouth quirked up. "That's the last of the frozen grocery store food we're going to have for a while. We're lucky it even kept for so long."

"Aw, that sucks." Sarah said, dumping a spoonful of the canned fruit preserves onto her plate.

"Thanks for the food, Carlos." Nick said as he entered the kitchen, depositing plates into the sink.

Luke followed behind, clearing his throat. "Well, since almost everyone is here, I think it's time we should talk about going on a supply run."

"What?" Rebecca arched an eyebrow. "Why the hell would you think now is a good time to do that?"

"Well, Pete, Nick and I have been talking about it for a while, and frankly Clem's arrival was a reminder that we ain't got enough of the basic stuff to go around for much longer. What we gotta focus on is gathering meds and ammo, and my best guess," He slapped down a map on the table, with a red circle drawn around a spot by a lake. "-is to start around this campsite on the other side of this lake."

The group was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to continue."I don't follow." Alvin said.

Nick pointed to a label inside the red circle. "There's a small town just outside of the state park. It's a tourist trap, they'll have gift shops, a clinic, camping gear, all kinds of stuff we can use."

"After all this time you think no one else has thought of this same thing?" Rebecca pointed out. "This town has probably already been picked clean. It's not worth the risk."

"That's the thing," Luke said, his hand gestures growing more animated as he explained. "It's practically sitting on top of a canyon. Unless you're driving for miles down a two-way road, there's no other easy way to get to it without hoofing it."

"You're saying that like that's a good thing." Alvin said, sharing his wife's skepticism.

"Think about it, when this all started people were told to go to military set ups in the major cities for evacuation. There's no reason to go hiking through herds of walkers to get to some glorified strip mall way out in the boonies. I'll bet you most of the stuff we're looking for will still be there."

"So if it's such a remote place, how are you going to convince any of us to go there?" Carlos drawled.

Luke crossed his arms, looking smug. "Well, we have a shortcut."

One by one, lightbulbs lit up over everyone but Clementine's head. "You mean the motor boat?" Sarah remarked, popping a piece of sausage into her mouth. Luke smiled and nodded. "That's right, kiddo."

"I knew it!" Clementine blurted out. They looked at her in surprise. Embarrassed, she explained, "The shed had a bunch of fishing stuff, I figured there might be a boat to go with it."

"Well, you figured right." Luke dragged his finger along a trail branching from the lake. "We go through here and cut around the main campsite, just in case the place is overrun. From the ranger station we can figure out what the situation is like and decide whether or not to continue into town." He glanced at everyone for objections. "How's that sound?"

"Like a waste of time, but ... it ain't the worst thing you've come up with." Rebecca admitted.

"So who all will be going on this expedition?" Carlos asked, crossing his arms.

"Well I'm in." Nick volunteered, raising his hand.

Luke bit his lip. "Actually, I was going to ask Pete and Clementine to go with me."

Clementine froze her fork in midair, wondering if she'd heard right. Nick looked offended. "_What?_"

"You're not serious." Rebecca scoffed, dropping her fork with a clatter on her plate. "Really, Luke? You want _her _watching your back? Anything can happen out there!"

"What the hell, man?" Nick said, hitting Luke arm. "Why am I getting benched?"

Carlos scratched his chin. "I can't imagine she'll be especially helpful against the lurkers, with her arm like that."

"I'm right here," Clementine pointed out with a wave of her hand, forcing them to acknowledge her presence. "I'd like to help out, if I can."

"Great, if you can carry a backpack then you're solid," Luke said, then turned to drop a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nick, I need you here to hold the fort while we're gone. If things go south we can't have all our eggs in one basket, understand?"

Nick blew out an irritated breath. "Yeah, whatever."

"This is crazy." Rebecca said, picking up her plate to leave.

"Well, that's not a no." Luke said with a head tilt. "How about you two, what do you think?"

Alvin shrugged. "Doesn't really seem like enough to go on, but I ain't gonna stop you."

Carlos thought long and hard, tapping a finger on his chin. "It's in our best interests to investigate this town. If there's a chance we can replenish our stock of medical supplies, then I support your plan."

"Good." Luke said with a pleased smile. "I think we should go tomorrow morning after breakfast, if Pete's onboard. If everything goes as planned we ought to be back before dark."

"Sounds good." Clementine said.

Carlos cleared the counter while Rebecca and Alvin left for their room. Nick wandered back outside with his tea, while Luke paused by Clementine. "Come find me when you're done eating, I'll give you the grand tour around this place."

She nodded, her eyes lingering maybe a second too long as he left. When she turned back to her food she caught Sarah scrutinizing her. "What?"

Sarah put on the least convincing innocent face Clementine had ever seen. "Nothing," She said flippantly, repressing a knowing grin. "Nothing at all."

* * *

**Yup, that's happening. Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Remember, leaving reviews brings fairies back to life.**


	5. Chapter 5

_"It was one of those fine little love stories that can make you smile in your sleep at night."_

_Chapter 5_

_This is bad ..._ Clementine thought, staring unhappily out the window as she washed dishes. _I'm probably just going through a phase. It's perfectly understandable, after all I've been through_. She bit her lip as she watched Luke put away some tools while talking with Pete, who'd woken up from his beauty sleep and was walking around with a mug of tea. Something he said made Luke throw his head back and laugh into the sun, the sight making the corner of her lips curve upwards involuntarily. _This is really bad..._

She was so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't hear when Sarah had entered the room, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. "What do you keep looking at?"

"Gah!" Clementine flinched, the pan slipping out of her grip and splashing soapy water over herself. She threw her a glare. "What? Nothing!"

"You've been scrubbing that pan for ten whole minutes. It can't be that dirty." Sarah followed her line of sight, grinning irritatingly wide. "Ohhhhh."

"N-no, no, I wasn't-"

"Enjoying the view?" She finished for her, crossing her arms.

Clementine choked out a mortified laugh. "Wha-what _view_? I just happened to look up, and..."

"He's _is_ pretty cute," Sarah admitted, "but he's like, in college, so that'd be super creepy. But not for _you_."

She blushed furiously. "Who?"

"Pete," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "Who do you think?"

"You have a crush on Pete?"

"_No!_ Ugh, fine, just be that way."

Clementine tried to think of a clever comeback when—to her acute despair—Luke and Pete walked through the kitchen door. "... So I'm thinking we can check on the traps on our way back, hopefully bring some dinner home with us."

Pete responded with a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Luke smirked. "Oh sorry, am I boring you?"

The older man pressed his lips together in a thin smile. "If you must know, I'm curious as to why you didn't get Nick to go with you instead of me."

"Well, I would, it's just ... he's a little _off _right now. There's a lot on his mind, I don't want to ..."

Sighing, Pete's brows knitting in an understanding concern. "I know, you're right, I see it too. That boy's in a world o' hurt and doesn't want anyone to know. But the simple fact is that my sleep schedule's completely topsey-turvy. My bedtime's when most of you are gettin' up. I won't be any use to ya half baked."

Luke sighed. "All right, next time I see him I'll ask if he can take your place."

"That's prolly for the best." Pete said, pulling up a chair at the table and slurping at his tea. Luke turned to the girls, who were both trying to look uninterested in their presence. He jerked his thumb out the door. "Hey, you guys want to come see something cool I found?"

"I'm sure Clem would," Sarah suggested breezily. Clementine raised panicked eyes to her, then to Luke. Sarah smiled slyly, nudging her away from the sink with a hip bump. "I can finish these, go on and take a break."

"Thanks, Sarah." Clementine said through gritted teeth, following Luke out the door.

Staring at her feet, Clementine tried to convince herself she was overreacting, given the circumstances. Being one of her rescuers certainly went a long way. Whatever feelings she had would likely fade away in time. Now was just a bad time to start getting stupid over some guy she'd just met.

He led her to the shed, one door already propped open with a brick, where she paused with a raised eyebrow. "Uh, I think I'm plenty acquainted with this place, thanks."

He glanced at her apologetically. "No doubt about that, but just trust me on this." She pressed her lips together, stepping inside. An odd muddy cluster of dry grass and gray down sat atop the table where she'd stitched up her arm (which began to itch curiously as she entered.) Luke held one finger to his lips, then motioned for her to look closer. She leaned over the mud pile, letting out a small gasp. One teeny tiny ball of pink and gray fluff lay between three crimson-speckled eggs. Together they watched it peep up, opening it's wide yellow beak in hearty chirps.

"Wow," She breathed, a huge grin spreading over her face.

"Aren't they somethin'?" Luke beamed. "I've seen a couple of barn swallows around the house, but I'm surprised there's a nest so deep in these parts. They don't usually hang out in the woods unless it's not safe for them in the more populated areas." He caught the bemused expression on Clementine's face, explaining, "I grew up in a small town, they're pretty common around farms. There was a nest outside Nick's bedroom window when we were in middle school. He used to love that sort of thing."

"You're kidding." It was hard to picture the broody guy who'd nearly shot her gushing over baby birds the way she was doing now.

"Nope, he even named a few of them. Not that he'd ever remember which one was which. Anyway, this little guy's home got shaken loose from it's place under the overhang outside, maybe last night when that walker busted through. You wanna help me put him back?"

Clementine nodded. As_ if _she could say no.

They circled around the back where he stopped next to the nearest tree. "That's where it goes." He said, pointing to where the two halves of the roof met. A new shelf made from a sawn off end of a two-by-four had been nailed just below the eave to form a triangle. He flashed her an intrepid look, lacing his fingers together at knee level. She looked at the thick branch above her head, putting two and two together. "This place has hot running water, but no ladder?"

"Don't worry. If you get stuck, I'll call the fire department." He offered, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth in a wry grin.

"We'll see about that." She hopped up to the branch and pulled her legs up, flipping right side up with a little effort. He golf clapped for her. "You're a natural. Wait there just a sec."

He came back out with the nest, going, "Shh shh shh, chill out little dude." He carefully lifted the nest to her. "Careful the little guy doesn't jump out."

She leaned as far out as she could without losing her balance, gently wedging the nest back into place. With a flourish, she said, "Tada!"

"Nice. Now let's give them some space for a while, before the parents come back."

She jumped down, admiring what their team effort had accomplished. "I never would have thought I'd be doing something like this after yesterday."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets."It was touch and go there for a while, yeah. Everyone's just on edge since we—uh, since Nick's mom passed away. But the way I see it, not being able to move on can make us blind to some pretty cool things."

"I can think of a few people who'd disagree with you." Clementine said, recalling the twisted frowns on the faces of certain people from the Motor Inn. It had been all about survival then, and eventually caution devolved into paranoia. Bitter words were said and actions that couldn't be taken back traveled with them for far longer than desired.

"I'm just saying, if we close ourselves off, and don't take a chance on people, then we're not doing much more than just existing ... that goes both ways, too."

"Sometimes it's not worth the risk." She said without thinking, immediately cursing herself.

"No, I know what you mean." He was quiet for a moment, pausing to stoop down and pick a starry little flower. "But you'll never know unless you do. If you change your mind though ..." He tucked the flower behind her ear, smiling in approval. "Let me know."

She watched him lope back to the house, slack-jawed and rooted in place. As soon as she heard the door click shut she snapped out of it. "Wait ... what were we talking about?" She asked no one in particular, wondering if they'd been talking about different things.

He had a reasonable point. Even after her acidic introduction to this new group, leaving was a gamble that held little reward. Wellington had always been a shot in the dark, and now it held little appeal without her friend. She had become good at moving on, but not so much at letting go. She played with the flower, unable to hold back a smile. _I'm going to have to do something nice for Sarah._

* * *

"Let's go, Nick!" Luke called from the trail, his breath freezing in little clouds. "You can put your make-up on when we get in the boat!"

Nick, still on the cabin porch, took a break from fiddling with his jacket zipper to flip him the bird, which only made his friend laugh. They were all still a little rough around the edges, having scraped breakfast off their plates not more than a few minutes before. As much as she would love to stay warm and curled up on the couch, Clementine was eager to take a ride on the boat. True, she'd have felt more comfortable if it was Pete going with them, all hard feelings for Nick aside, but this was the first time in years that she felt confident things would swing in their favor.

It was a cool steely blue morning they breathed in, walking through crisp dead leaves covered in a thin layer of frost. The path they followed was little more than a deer trail, winding through so much shrubbery and hidden obstacles she would have gotten hopelessly lost if it weren't for Luke leading the way, clearing the underbrush away with his machete.

Her hand drifted to the simple hammer bobbing against her hip, wishing for a sidearm with a bit more range. As far as she knew, they only carried two firearms: Nick's hunting rifle and a handgun secured in Luke's waistband. The majority of the group had flat out refused to loan her the use of a gun, though frankly she'd be surprised if they hadn't. They were there as a last resort, seeing how the noise was a worse enemy than any walker they put down. Still, the extra insurance would be nice.

"Almost there!" She looked up to see their destination, an impressively spacious body of water with hazy mist rolling above the surface. Across the lake they could see mountains forming a blue wall in the far-flung distance, the tops just barely crowned gold with sunshine.

The boat, however, was not what she was expecting. She frowned and tipped her head to one side as the fiberglass squeaked under a crayon-blue tarp, tethered to a partially rotted away dock. More than a few spiders skittered away when Luke threw the tarp back, revealing little more than a drab, four-seater dinghy. Nick noticed her less than impressed expression and said, "What were you expecting, a yacht party?"

Clementine sucked air through her teeth. "It doesn't look like there are enough happy thoughts in the world to make that thing run."

"And unfortunately for us, we're fresh out of pixie dust," Luke frowned as he dug through his backpack, pulling out a red canister with a grimace. "I guess we'll just have to use this lame-ass fuel I brought."

Nick clicked his tongue. "Bummer."

After a couple tries, the motor sputtered to life, sparking an eruption of tiny birds from the nearest trees. The sound didn't instill any more confidence, but it was too late for second thoughts. The three of them squeezed in (while she half thought it would sink from their collective weight), proving the dinghy was sturdier than it looked. "Hold on."

The boat carried them away from the shore at a steady pace. Clementine dipped her fingers into the water, watching the wake ripple behind them as they left the familiar behind and into heavier fog. After about an hour the novelty wore off, and her light zip up (loaned to her by Sarah) did little to keep out the wind. She tucked her head to her chest as she hugged herself to hoard whatever warmth she could retain.

"Here," She felt something warm drape itself over her back. She looked up to see Luke placing his jacket over her shoulders. "You look pathetic."

"And here I thought I looked good this morning," She mumbled, tugging it closer around her. "Won't you be ..."

He shook his head with a crooked smile. "Nah, I tend to run hot. You could use it more than me."

Clementine came up with half a dozen suggestive comebacks, knowing she'd never bring herself to use any of them, until the moment passed.

They drifted around a sunken sailboat, the dirty off-white sail wafting in the current. Moments later the dilapidated remains of a ghostly harbor emerged into view. The boardwalk had long since broken apart on itself and jutted out from the water like vertebrae. They turned straight into a bobbing dock still mostly intact and sticking out from a concrete hut built into the embankment. A dirt trail disappeared into a white tree line.

Clementine climbed out as Nick tethered the boat, stretching her limbs and back. Not much could be seen through the fog, but there was no sounds movement, not even an errant bird in the leaves or critter in the bushes. She squinting at something half-visible in the distance, further down the embankment.

Luke shook out the map. "So the ranger station is only a quarter-mile up this hill. There should be markers along the way, so we can't get lost. Keep an eye out for any facilities that might still have—"

"Guys ..." She pointed to the three figures hanging from a tree, swaying gently from the odd spasm. Or rather, what was left of them. Their lower halves had been devoured clean off, splayed in piles underneath their dangling broken spines.

Luke and Nick exchanged horrified looks. "What ... the _fuck_?"

"Do you think it's a warning?" Clementine asked. "I mean, why else would they still be uh, you know, not actually dead?"

"Sooo," Nick began, sitting on the edge of the dock and fiddling with the rope. "I'm gonna be the first one to suggest we might be out of our depth here, and there's no shame in high-tailing it back home."

"Do we have enough fuel to make a second trip?" Clementine asked, daring to hope. Luke shook his head, unable to tear his eyes off the hanged corpses. "There's barely enough for the ride back."

"Well I'm sorry, but that's just wrong on so many—" Nick stopped abruptly, hearing an unearthly shriek pierce from deep into the trees. A chill ran down Clementine's spine and she gripped her hammer for comfort. Luke hand had flown up to the handle of his machete, scanning the trees for the source.

Nick paled, dropping his backpack back into the boat. "Nope. Fuck that. I quit."

"Jesus, if _that_ wasn't eerie as all hell," Luke muttered, no less alarmed as he stuffed the map into his back pocket.

"What was that?" Clementine asked, bewildered. Whatever it was wailed again, the sound like nails dragging across a mile of chalkboard, followed by a short staccato of gunfire. "I think that's someone who needs help!"

"Nick, dammit, get your shit together," He hissed, beckoning impatiently. Nick simply wobbled on the boat with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Hell no, I'm serious, man. Fuck. That."

"We don't have time for this, Nick! Get your ass over here!"

"_Shh!_"

"Don't—" Luke looked beside himself, jabbing a finger at him. "Don't you fucking _shush_ me, man."

"You guys are ridiculous!" Clementine hissed, throwing her bag over her shoulder and creeping up the hill.

Luke yanked his friend out of the boat, swinging his bag over his back. "Wait, Clem! What if it's a trap?"

She spread her arms out. "What if it's not? Maybe can help, or at least find out what's happening. Do you really want to go back home empty handed?"

He ran his fingers through his hair with a defeated scowl. "All right, but the second things get out of hand, I'm dragging your ass back here whether you like it or not."

Just to humor him, she huffed a dramatic, "Fine!" She got no further than a few steps when he called her name again.

"_What?_" She snapped, looking back to see Luke offer out the handgun, grip first. "Just in case, we'll cover your six."

She flexed her fingers around the grip, gauging it's weight and looking down the sights. It was a single action, reasonably comfortable size for her small hands, and best of all, a full clip plus one in the chamber. "Now we're talking." She flicked the safety off and lead the two men into the fog.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life..."_

_Chapter 6_

Clementine felt like she was walking through someone else's dream. The unfamiliar, crumbling structures were deteriorating memories that drifted in and out of sight, out of mind. Behind her, Luke and Nick were barely fleshed out ghosts following through the deep curtains of fog. She wondered if this was the way the walkers saw the world, when they weren't driven manic by that hunger, and everything that didn't move was simply deader than they.

The agonized screams had died down by the time they approached the outline of a small cabin, it's sad, sagging roof covered in thick moss and practically vibrating with the dead. They took cover beside a picnic table, watching for movement. "I can't see anything in this shit." Nick grumbled.

Luke retrieved a set of binoculars from his pack, bracing his elbows on the table as he inspected the building. Clementine held her breath, watching an unsettlingly tiny skeleton in a filthy scout uniform amble past them toward the wet squelching coming from the cabin. She tugged on his shirt sleeve. "See anything?"

He swallowed, passing the binoculars to Nick. "There's got to be at least a dozen of them in there. Whoever was in there is gone now."

"Jee-zus, it's like Black Friday in there," Nick said, half-awed and half-disgusted. "Which is exactly why we ought to mosey along, don't you think?"

Clacks of gunshots echoed through the trees once more, making Luke swivel around with the binoculars glued to his face. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Survivors?"

"I don't know, but I don't like this," Nick muttered, chewing on the skin of his finger. "I got this bad feeling, man. We should get back to the boat."

"It's probably just indigestion, you'll be fine," Luke quipped. "Let's at least stick to the plan for now until we know what we're dealing with."

Nick snorted. "Honestly, I'm more worried about getting shot than bit."

"It's coming from that way," Clementine pointed up the trail. Luke made a sour expression. "Towards the ranger station. They'd better be friendly."

"Yeah, well what are the odds of that?"

Luke drew his machete with a long sigh. "Nick, buddy, I value your opinion and all, but you're kind of bringing me down, man."

The unmaintained trail had become rather difficult to follow, due to the low-visibility and the over-active plant growth obscuring the path. They followed the irregular shots echoing clearer until an old brick building rose into view. It was squatted across a small parking lot containing two cars near the entrance, every surface carpeted with forest debris. Verdant moss sprouted through cracks, it's walls covered in patchy pale lichen. What really drew the eye, however, was the shredded blue sofa pushed up against shattered glass doors.

"Psst!" Nick motioned for them to duck behind a dumpster on the edge of the lot. "I see them."

Two—no, three men hunkered in between the two cars, partially obscured and apparently in cover. Indistinct conversation could be heard, punctuated by the occasional shot fired over the hood of the large white minivan. A man in a blue ball-cap and denim jacket popped up and shouted, "Sweetheart, it's been fun real messing 'round with ya, but I'm getting real tired of your shit!" A muffled _click click_ from somewhere inside the station made them duck their heads, resulting in the minivan's passenger mirror exploding.

Clementine peeked around the dumpster. She could make out one of them, the one who'd just spoken, nod to another man in a dark green flannel digging into his pocket. "Don't say we didn't warn ya." He said. A tiny clink, then green-flannel guy lobbed a black cylinder through the window.

A solid two seconds later a sharp explosion rocked the building, the shockwave blowing out the remaining windows and sending shards of glass and splintered wood scattering. "Ho-ly shit!" Green-flannel whooped, "Talk about shooting fish in a barrel, huh?"

Ball-cap guy clapped a hand on the third man's shoulder. "Lou, do your pillage and plunder thing." The guy named Lou could have dwarfed Carlos, a veritable Viking in jeans. He stood up to a full height of well over six and a half inches, hesitating by the window. The words that came out of his mouth sounded garbled.

Ball-cap guy rolled his eyes. "In English, please!"

"Wot. About. Girl?"

Ball-cap guy sighed, stepping measuredly to the giant man. "I'm gonna share with you a personal principle I have for these types of situations: If you're gonna point a gun at someone, you'd better make sure you shoot him. And if you shoot him, you'd better make sure he's dead, 'cause if he isn't, he's gonna get up and try to kill you. Now, do remember what just happened?" He ejected the clip of his pistol into his palm, counting the number of shots left. "I had my gun on her head and _didn't_ shoot her. Why?" He slammed the clip back in place, offering it out with more menace than one would normally give a man covered in that much muscle. "'Cause _you_ asked me not to. And now Babycakes is dead. That's on you. Do the right thing."

Lou stared at it blankly for a moment, square jaw twitching. He took the proffered pistol, ducking his head under the window sill and stepped through the building without another word. Green-flannel guy scratched the balding patch on his head. "Wasn't that a line from _Blood Simple_?"

A startled woman's cry separated two, nearly simultaneous gunshots from inside the station.

"Yep," He responded, drawing out the _Y_ sound, wiggling the brim of his hat up and down. "Mums the word, though. Later I'm gonna tell him I helped write the script."

Lou came back out with a large rucksack under one arm, a deeply troubled look on his sharply, angular features.

"Dibs on the gun!"

"Dammit, Nate! You always do that." The three men took their time swaggering off around the building, talking between themselves.

Nick waited until they were out of sight before speaking. "This place'll be crawling in lurkers pretty soon after that noise. I still think we should cut our losses now."

"But wait," Clementine objected. "Aren't you even curious about whoever's in the station?"

"They threw a _grenade_ in there and shot her down!"

"Flashbang, actually," Luke clarified. "But I'm with Nick on this, I don't wanna get in the middle of that clusterfuck. Let's just sneak by and avoid any trouble, all right?

"Can you believe that guy though? He's almost as bad as—Clem, wait!"

She was gone, darting across the parking lot without so much as an irritated backwards glance. Nick glared at Luke, as though he were to blame. "Literally does the opposite of everything I say."

"You just have that effect on girls," Luke said with a grin, patting him on the shoulder. "Keep a lookout, will ya?"

"You guys suck, you really do."

The room smelled like an entire matchbook set on fire, smoldering books and partially incinerated pamphlets glowing in the smoke. Clementine was examining the significant portion of the ceiling that had caved in, exposing useless criss-crossing cables. Piles of office furnishings spilled through a door knocked off it's hinges. Other barricades of filing cabinets and folding tables had been pushed against the back windows.

"This must've been a temporary safehouse." Luke murmured.

A grunt from behind the front desk made them freeze. He motioned for Clementine to stay put, calling out, "Hey. Hello? You alive?"

No reply, only hard coughing and the tinkling of broken glass. He quietly rounded the corner with his machete raised over his head, smoothly aiming at something on the ground when he dropped it back down to the side. "Oh shit."

"Well?" Clementine asked, navigated the rubble to have a look. Sprawled on the ground was a woman with short raven-black hair dusted with drywall, nearly invisible in dark clothes topped with a motorcycle jacket and an empty belt holster. Two bullet holes splintered the wall above her head. She cracked one bruised eye open. "Get it over with, I don't have all day."

The two of them exchanged confused looks. "We're not here to hurt you."

"Oh, well that's a nice twist on things, I can get down with this." She groaned, attempting to sit up.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy there," Luke chided, kneeling down with a hand out to steady her. "You hurt, take it slow."

"'Tis but a flesh wound," She said mildly, ignoring him and resting her elbows on her knees, rubbing her temples. Eventually she strained to focus on their faces. "So who the fuck are you?"

He shared a questioning look with Clementine, who nodded encouragingly. "We were just passing through to investigate the town up ways. This is Clementine, and I'm Luke."

"Huh, well you're late to the party," She said with heavy eyelids, nearly tipping over before she caught herself on a stiff arm. "Sorry ... I've had a hell of a night."

"Sounds like an understatement. Let's get you out of here, before walkers..." Luke trailed off when her head drooped again, her head lolling on her shoulder. "Never mind." He scooped his arms under her knees and arms, hoisting her up. "Let's move, Clem. Lead the way?"

She gave him a sloppy salute, nimbly climbing out the window. Nick glowered by the dumpster with his arms crossed until he caught sight of them and the damsel in distress. His jaw dropped an inch. "Huh."

"Take the map out of my pocket, will ya?" Luke said. "Is there a hill nearby overlooking the camp?"

"Uhh," Nick flattened the map out, scouring the lines veining the area. "Yeah! That way!" He pointed to their northeast at a road just barely visible. Luke shifted the weight in his arms. "I think the walkers have been getting funneled downhill,so the further up we go—"

"I gotcha, let's go." Nick led the way up the road. It zigzagged up the steep slope until they reached a shanty cabin that looked as if it'd been tossed carelessly between the trees.

The entire interior of the cabin was a dry splatter of crusted brown fluids and buzzing, stained bones. Clementine gagged, slamming the door back shut on the swarm of flies. Nick whistled from the corner of the cliff. "This looks good."

A turret-shaped gazebo perched between the safety rails overlooking the campground, or at least it would have without the curtain of fog. The slap of water against concrete carried up to their ears, as did the faints guttural howls of the dead.

Luke laid the woman down on the bench, "She's not going anywhere for a while. In the meantime, I suggest we secure this area." He noticed where's Nick's attention was directed. "You mind babysitting for a minute?"

Nick dragged his gaze off the unconscious woman. "Huh? Yeah, yeah, go do that."

Luke turned to Clementine, handing her the binoculars. "Try to see of you can find those guys and follow their movements. I get the feeling we'll want to know what they're up to when she wakes up."

* * *

The hours crept by uneventfully. Nick found himself checking his watch every fifteen minutes, blowing air through his lips impatiently. Luke had gone off to investigate whatever had tripped their perimeter alarm (fishing line jerry-rigged with some cat collar bells).

Clem was entertaining herself with the binoculars, leaned up against the rail while peering through the evaporating mist at the campground below, following every blurred movement with hawk-eyed results. Relevant reports, however, became less and less frequent. "This guy in the green shirt will not stop picking his nose, it's like his brain has a rash."

"Thanks for the mental image, Clem. You're doing great."

The woman they'd found hadn't quite woken up yet. From a cursory inspection, she was neither bitten nor grievously injured, yet her olive complexion was ashy and her lips dry. Probably from exhaustion and dehydration. Better to let her rest, though it prevented them from going on with the plan. And that made him nervous.

Questions bubbled up that couldn't yet be answered, making him anxious for what their next move would be. The amorphous feeling of dread had knotted in his sternum, radiating out from his chest. Something bad was imminent, he just didn't know what or how he knew. He looked at his watch, until the _tick, tick, tick _melded with his pulse.

Fuck, if Pete were here, he'd at least know exactly what to do, he would make a call and follow through like a bull stampede. Not like Nick, he was too wary, too indecisive. He didn't even know her _name._

At first sight, she looked like any average woman in her late twenties to early thirties, sort of pretty, a little too underfed. Clearly a well prepared survivor though, wearing a tough, armored jacket and hard polypropylene pads velcroed on her joints. No teeth, at least, could hurt her from the neck down. Nick removed her hard, leather gloves and placed them next to her head, revealing cold, slender fingers. He rubbed them together in his own, breathing into them for warmth.

She mumbled something in her sleep. Nick leaned forward, straining his ears. Her armored jacket seemed tightly buttoned around her throat, her neck laid at an uncomfortable angle against the hard wood bench. Without thinking (coherently, anyway), he flicked the silver button loose, slipping his other palm under her head to tweak it straight. He hesitated on the zipper, gently, slowly, quietly pulling the tab down until it met her belt buckle.

The two halves of the jacket popped apart. In that moment her eyelids twitched, her hand drifting up to Nick's scruffy cheek. "Hey..."

He froze, blinked, touching her fingers lightly. "Hi." Her eyes opened, unfocused at first, then fixed down on his other hand, unfortunately resting on her belt buckle.

Clementine heard a squawk of surprise and a quick scuffle, turning around to find Nick on his knees with his arms tangled behind him, the tip of a short knife appearing out of nowhere to press against his neck. The woman's wild auburn eyes darted under an errant tuft of untrimmed bangs. "What is this? Where am I?"

"Calm down!" Clementine said as gently as she could, her fingers splayed in pacifying gestures. "Remember me? My friends and I saved you!"

She blinked slowly, memories catching up to the rest of her. "Clementine, right? Right ... those were my favorites."

"Yeah," Clementine said, her face contorting in relief as the knife pulled away from Nick's neck. "Are you ok?"

Nick winced, flexing his arm. "Yeah, yeah, just twisted my wrist."

"I was talking to her."

"I could use a stiff drink." She admitted weakly, trying not to wobble as she tucked the blade back into her boot.

"I second that notion," Nick growled, rolling his shoulder. "What's your name anyway?"

Her dark features furrowed together in a wordless apology, offering her hand to pull him to his feet. "Call me Em."

He stared robotically at her for a second, clasping his hand into hers. "I'm Nick."

"You're awake." Luke emerged from the wilderness, decayed blood sprayed in droplets over his clothes. The line of Clementine's shoulders sunk in relief at his arrival, which she probably thought no one noticed. "How you do feel?"

"Like my friends are all dead," She murmured, clawing her fingers through her hair. She dropped her butt down on the bench, breathing out a heavy, "Oh _balls_..."

Something clicked into place in Clementine's head. "There were three hanged people by the lake. Did you know them?" Em closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, her voice thin. "You saw them?"

"Yeah, as soon as we got here." She said. "We heard screaming near the lake a few hours ago, we had to see if we could help."

Her eyes screwed shut, spitting, "Oh. Yeah. That bimbo sure had a set o' pipes on her." She curled her fingers into fists. "She killed my friend..."

They waited in bated silence as she choked on a sob, clamping her hand against her mouth. "She got bit..." Em blurted out. "My friends and I were combing through that town up ways—" She stopped when she noticed the way they all tensed and looked at each other. "It take it you guys know of it."

Luke nodded. "We were going to scout the place out, yeah. We figured it was just out of the way enough to still have supplies."

"It sure as hell did," She said bitterly. "Took us most of the day to hike to it, but ..." She swallowed hard. "... In the end, the paydirt was what killed us. Meds, ammo, food, the whole post-apocalyptic nine yards. Arielle even found this necklace..." She trailed off, features hardening.

Nick tentatively pressed a hand on her arm. "What happened to them?"

"We ... met this Bulgarian guy, Lyuben, in the gift shop. He was awkward as shit, didn't really speak English and built like a fucking brick shithouse, but ... I don't know, he looked so fucking _lost_. He helped us search the clinic, then that smarmy fucking prick _Nate _and his goons come along and start demanding we hand over everything we got. That bitchass _Babycakes_, or whatever the fuck they called her, saw Arielle's hand and killed her." Her posture squared off, reflecting her caged rage bubbling within. "Deadbeats bit a few of her fingers off. I told her it would be fine but I don't think any of us believed it. I lied my ass off anyway, that we'd tie off her arm, I would chop it off and cauterize it, and it would be fine. I would have done it too. But ..." She brushed heavy tears off her lashes. "They never even gave her, or any of us, a chance to come to terms with it."

They sat in uncomfortable silence, as she strangled the little sobs in her throat, almost unaware she was still clutching at Nick's hand. "I've known her since fourth grade. She played fucking _cello_. She was like my _sister__._"

"I'm so sorry..." Clementine whispered sorrowfully, not knowing what else to say._  
_

"I...I managed to chew my ropes off while they were hanging the others, one by one. I stole my gun back, grabbed one of our bags and booked it. They followed me until some deadbeats backed me into a cabin, and that girl nearly gets me before I shot her kneecaps. It bought me some time to get to the station. I guess you guys know the rest."

They watched her rub the blood off the cut on her lip and stare at it in disbelief. "I'm actually really surprised I'm not dead."

"So you knew that big guy, Lou, or _Lyuben_, the one who was supposed to shoot you in the station?" Luke asked. "He didn't kill you because he knew you?"

"Maybe..." She acquiesced, looking like she'd be ill. "He didn't put much of a fight when they came along. Probably felt guilty."

"Any idea what they might be up to now?" Nick asked. She shook her head. "I don't know, they took everything we had. All our food, medicine, and weapons ... it won't be long before they move on."

"We'll get your things back," He declared, making Luke and Clementine raise their eyebrows. Nick looked at the two of them like he expected them to object. "They have everything we wanted to get from that town, so our plan is fucked. At the very least, we can get her things back. With the four of us together we outnumber them. That's a start."

She gave his hand a little squeeze, a dejected smile on her lips. "I really appreciate that. I guess after checking the cabins, they might end up down by the water, looking for gas to siphon from from any boats that might be left—"

"Fuck, seriously?" Luke shouted, jumping to his feet. Em was startled, nodding apprehensively. "Yeah, why? Oh shit, you guys didn't get here by boat, did you?

"Yeah, and we didn't exactly put a bike lock on it. Clem, what was their last position?"

"By the public bathrooms east of the station. It did look like they were making their way downhill. There were a lot of walkers slowing down their progress."

Luke tsked. "Even so, they'll beat us to it. We'd never make it past them without them noticing us."

"Do you think we can take them on?" Clementine asked. Em winced. "Doubtful. They took _all_ of our shit. Weapons and ammo, meds ... it doesn't matter that they're outnumbered unless we can take them by surprise."

"Well, we have to make sure our exit route it secured." Luke said. "Going into town is pointless now. We'll need to think of some kind of distraction."

"So, anyone wanna volunteer to run up and moon them into submission?" Nick drawled.

"Well," Em said slowly. "Do any of you have matches?"

Confused, Clementine reached into her pocket. "I have a zippo."

Em grinned. "I may have an idea."

* * *

"Fucking gross." Devon said, kicking at one of the squirming bodies hanging cold in the air. It bounced against one of the others, snarling as it swayed.

Nate stepped back from the slouching cabin's window, his face warped in repulsion. "What a fucking waste. She had such a slammin' rack on her. Dumb as a rock, but that's why god invented strippers."

After retrieving their stolen stash of supplies, it had taken them hours to circle around the horde collecting around the station, forcing the three of them to retreat within the cabins until the dead meandered by. Time didn't matter, though. Now that the chick who disarmed Babycakes (he didn't actually know her real name, not that he'd bothered to ask) got her just desserts, they were set for months. He even swiped the bitch's gun, a sexy silenced MK 23 fitted with a laser sight. "Just the survival of the fittest."

"Are you talking to me?" Devon said, nose wrinkled.

"No, I'm talking to Lou, cause _that's_ real fucking rewarding." He pointed lazily at the crouched man, who was scooping something from slick, brown bones underneath the hanged people. He didn't look up, but his sour expression spoke for him.

Nate squinted off into the harbor's distance. "That little boaty thing over there..." He pointed to the nearly hidden, bobbing dinghy. "That looks useful. Lou, go check it out."

Lou stood up straight, his bloody grip wrapped around something in his palm. "_Lyuben_."

"What?"

"Kazvam se Lyuben. _Name_, " He said as though speaking to a child, pointing at his chest. "Lyuben Zerihov."

"Shit, you sound like a fucking epileptic—"

A shrill whistle snatched their attention. A small pop of colors exploded above the water, echoing through the silent trees. "What the shit..." Devon said.

Another flash zipped through the air, bright phosphorescent tendrils in the dimming sky. Nate brought the gun up to eye-level. "Nobody move."

A third firecracker went off, the line of smoke trailing from some bushes by the lake's edge. He squinted down the sight, seeing a shadowy figure dart into the trees. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Swift realization dawned on him a millisecond before he felt the cold edge of a blade press against his neck. A man's voice, "No sudden movements."

He scoffed, cheerfully throwing up his hands in surrender, chuckling, "Fucking _smooth_, man. I didn't even hear you coming."

A heavy thwack dropped Devon in a heap at Clementine's feet, gripping her hammer with both hands. Lyuben pointed his gun at her, only to lower it at the sight of Nick's rifle emerge from the trees.

"Lets make this clean and quick." Luke said. "We're here for the stolen items."

Nate's grin fell, connecting the dots. He threw a black look at Lyuben. "You...inbred fucktard, I gave you _one_ job!"

"I got this one." Clementine said, wrestling the rucksack off Devon's shoulders. "It's really heavy."

"What's it gonna be?" Luke nudged the back of his head with the flat of his blade. Nate drew his lips back in a vicious grin. "You've crossed me. I promise you, I'll kill you like a dog in the street for this."

"Can't say I'm too worried about that." Em retorted, walking up from behind with Luke's single action in a teacup grip. Lyuben wore a slightly remorseful look at her approach. She huffed, "Nice to see you too."

He towered over her, having to sharply incline his head to meet her eyes. He dropped his gun and kicked it to her. The rucksack slid off his shoulders, offering it out in one hand and a dirty silver chain in the other. The color drained from her face, reaching out to accept the red-stained necklace first. "_Sorry_." He said, the low sound coming from deep in his chest.

Nate was disgusted, raising the gun. "Backstabbing son of a-" Luke struck him with the butt of his machete, sending him falling face first into a bushel of ferns.

For a moment, none of them spoke, too surprised by their change in fortune. "That went really well, didn't it?" Nick said, scratching under his hat.

Em walked up to the Nate's prostrate form, picking up the silenced gun from his hand. "There's my baby." She said, checking the magazine before tucking it into her hip holster.

"So," Clementine began, twirling her hammer shyly. "What are you gonna do now?"

Em handed her the borrowed gun and lighter back, smiling warmly. "I can't exactly carry all this junk by myself. You guys came all this way for it, so take whatever you need. As my thanks."

"You're welcome to come back with us." Luke suggested. "We got a decent setup a few miles south."

"I appreciate it, but I can't. Besides, I don't think you have room in your pathetic excuse for a boat."

"Where will you go?" The young girl asked.

"Well, I've been searching for a couple of guys for a few months now, both about—" Em held her hand several inches over her head."—yay tall. A man named Roy and this fourteen year old named Orion. I don't suppose you've seen them?"

Luke and Nick both shook their heads. Clementine shrugged, "I don't remember anyone like that."

Distress flickered over her features for an instant. "Ah, I see."

"Family?"

She smiled. "Yeah. My husband and son."

Nick was staggered. "You're married?"

"Well, _no_, not in any legal-binding way. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find an ordained minister nowadays." She confessed, pulling on a cord around her neck. On it dangled a spectacular diamond ring large enough to take out an eye. "But in my heart we are, where it counts."

"That's really wonderful." Nick said, crestfallen yet sincere.

Em turned a dauntless eye to the tall Bulgarian, who was awkwardly standing to the side his his arms crossed. "How about it, Lyuben? You wanna come with?"

He smirked, nodding once.

Luke smiled. "I hope you find them, we'll keep an—"

He never finished his sentence, because that was when Nate decided to wake up. No matter what anyone said about him, he had always been a shrewd planner, often by the seat of his pants and always expecting the chance of failure. When the only laws that mattered were the principles you enforced yourself, he was damn well sure to keep a back up plan, fully loaded and hidden in his pocket.

Luke noticed the movement out in his peripheral vision, stepping in front of Clementine in the fraction of a second before the gun fired.

It was a start, an eye for an eye. Karma's a bitch.

* * *

**I'm really sorry for the lack of updates. I've got the next few chapters outlined, so hopefully I can get back into doing weekly uploads. Major thanks to the wonderful people who reviewed, it's like Christmas day every time I read your comments. And HOLY CRAP, AMID THE RUINS! FINALLY!**


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